TIME AND THE FLOWERS. 1 77 
had come in the beauty of her broad bloom of flowers; 
and when only a blossom was seen here and there 
upon the Bramble, and the blue of the nodding Hare¬ 
bell looked wan and pale, and the crimson flush of the 
hardy Heath had faded from its cheek, they knew that 
the solemn Autumn was at hand : for a thousand va¬ 
ried hues proclaimed that the funeral pyre of Summer 
was kindled, and all her flowers faded away to the 
ashy gray, which only remains behind, when all her 
beauty is extinguished. Then Childhood sallied forth, 
with merry shout, and happy heart, and ran, until it 
was compelled to stop through sheer weariness, to and 
fro among the unnumbered flowers; shaking off, in its 
eager flight, the loosened silver from the Daisy, and 
the dusty gold from the deep yellow of the Buttercup. 
Young lovers only numbered the many happy meet¬ 
ings they had had together, by the days which the 
milk-white Hawthorn remained in blossom, and the 
many times they had heard the song of the cuckoo, 
while seated beneath its fragrant shade. Old Age 
dated the years it had lived by recalling how many 
times it had seen the Wild Rose blow;, and wandered 
forth to gather the spotted blossoms of the golden Cow¬ 
slip. They kept their record of marriages by the 
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