H ouse and Garden 
NARCISSUS POETICUS—EGANDALE, ILLINOIS, I905 
Narcissus ''I'll E narcissus or daffodil, no matter 
Poeticus A under which name it is known, has 
long filled the hearts of flower lovers. 
1 hey have, been the theme of poets, and the sub¬ 
ject of the artist’s brush. 
Scientists adopted the old Greek and Roman 
name, narcissus , hut the common people preferred 
that of daffodil, which, according to Lady Wilkin¬ 
son, is simply an adaptation of the old English word 
“affodyle," meaning “that which cometh early.” 
“Daffodils 
That come before the swallow dares, and take 
The winds of March with beauty.” 
The Winter’s Tai.e. Act iv Scene 3. 
Keats' immortal lines: 
“A thing of beauty is a joy forever 
* * * * and such are Daffodils, 
With the green world they live in.” 
pay tribute to this lovely flower. 
The English poets, more than any other people, 
sing its praises, for there two forms, N. pseudo nar¬ 
cissus and N. biflorus, grow wild and may be seen 
in their natural grouping. 
One large yellow species is common in Palestine, 
and led Mahomet to say, 
“ffe that hath two cakes of bread, let him sell one 
of them for some flower of the narcissus; for bread 
is the food of the body, but narcissus is the food of 
the soul.” 
I hose whose acquaintance with this flower is 
limited to the florist’s window but little imagine 
the scene of loveliness afforded by a large grouping 
located in apparently natural situations. In formal 
beds, proper in a way for tulips, they seem stiff and 
out of place, but in open spaces in bordering woods, 
or in open woodland recesses, where one may come 
upon them unawares, they seem at home, revelling 
in loveliness. Fortunate, indeed, are those whose 
ample grounds allow them such ideal situations, 
but we, whose space is limited, must not be deterred 
from enjoying their beauty in masses. 
We must bear in mind, however, that after bloom¬ 
ing, their foliage slowly withers and dies, and when 
all else around them is verdant with the impulse of 
life, they are wearing the sombre brown of decay. 
I bis comes at a time when our gardens are in 
their prime, and we dislike any evidence of an end 
to our summer beauty. We dislike the untidy 
look, and when Anal ripening-off takes place, and 
only the bare ground meets our eye, we forget the 
former beauty, and deplore the empty space. They 
are sleeping the sleep of peace, and we know that 
they will reappear next spring in enhanced glory, 
but as we cannot disturb them it behooves us to so 
arrange our planting that when they are in their 
regal beauty, we may enjoy the sight unmolested, 
but when in the “sere and yellow” leaf some “thing 
of life” stands up and hides them. 
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