SHAKESPEARE’S GARDEN 
Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell 
Of different flowers in odour and in hue 
Could make me any summer’s story tell, 
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew. 
Sonnets , xcviii. 
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds. 
Midsummer-Night's Dream, II. i. no. 
‘ * Retired Leisure 
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.” 
Milton : II Penseroso. 
HAT man who can witness unmoved the moods 
and passions of Nature, whether seen in some 
mighty cataclysm or in the pure calm of moonlit 
landscape, must be very strangely composed ; but in 
Nature’s many varied colourings and harmonies what 
more glorious than her lavish display of flower and 
fruit, some long stretch of hillside sheeted with 
golden gorse or dyed by the setting sun with a thou¬ 
sand purpling shades of ling and heather, where all 
things—rock, foliage, and sky—-speak alike the glory 
of the Divine Father? What wonder, then, that flower 
and fruit have played a not ignoble part in the civili¬ 
zation of the world, and have helped to soften many 
a rugged nature and have brought precious solace to 
many a broken heart! 
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