the gold ebbed, and nothing was left but a drift of withered blossoms
on the ground; then came the acacia-flowers, white as the morning
among the cool green plumage of the tree, and now they, too, have been
turned into dirtiness and deserted foam. And in the hedges change has
been as swift, as merciless--change so imperceptible in what it is
doing, so manifest in what it has done. The white blossoms of the sloe
gave place to the foam of the hawthorn and the flat clusters of the
wayfaring-tree; now in its turn has come the flood of the
elder-flowers, a flood of commonness, and June on the roads would
hardly be beautiful were it not for the roses that settle, delicate
and fleeting as butterflies, on the long and crooked briers. Perhaps
one has not the right to say of any flower or any bird that it is not
beautiful Even elder-flowers, seen at a distance, can give
cheerfulness to a roadside. But, if we have to pick and choose among
flowers, there are many who will give the lowest prize to the flowers
that have been compared to umbrellas--elder-flowers, cow's parsley,
hemlock, and the rest. These are the plebeians of the hedges and
ditches. They have the air of something useful. One would imagine they
were intended to be cooked and eaten in cheap restaurants. We
experience no lifting of the heart at sight of them. We should be
surprised to hear the abrupt ecstasy of a wren issuing from among
their leaves. And yet it is hardly a week since, walking in a Sussex
lane, I saw a long procession of cow's parsley on the top of a high
bank silhouetted against the twilight sky. There seemed never to have
been more exquisite flowers. They had captured the silver of evening
as in a net.

There are many flowers that seem ugly to an indifferent eye. Even the
red valerian, that sprouts so boldly in bushes of coral from the top
of the wall, is regarded by some people as a weed and an impudent