Chapter 2
In a garden by Radcliffe Hall, read for Librivox.org by Christine Layman. In the garden a thousand roses, a vine of jessamine flower, sweet peas in coquettish poses, sweet brier with its fragrant dower. There are hollyhocks tall in slender, and marigolds gay and fair, and sunflowers in glowing splendor, geraniums rich and rare, and the wee white innocent daisy, half hidden amid the lawn, a bee grown drowsy and lazy,
on honey he's drunk since dawn, is reposing with wings extended on some soft passionate rose, a glow with a blush more splendid than ever a fair cheek knows, while a thrush in the ivy swinging that clusters over the gate, a throb with the spring is singing and ardently calls his mate, for the spirit of all sweet odours, the soul of a June unborn, has hallowed my humble garden and whispered to me since dawn, and the flowers in a prayer of rapture,
bent low to that spell divine, are wafting their sweetest incense in clouds at his sunlit shrine.
