Week 19
LECTURE VII THE LIFE OF A PRIMROSE
When the dreary days of winter and the early damp days of spring
are passing away, and the warm bright sunshine has begun to pour
down upon the grassy paths of the wood, who does not love to go
out and bring home posies of violets, and bluebells, and
primroses? We wander from one plant to another picking a flower
here and a bud there, as they nestle among the green
leaves, and we make our rooms sweet and gay with the tender and
lovely blossoms. But tell me, did you ever stop to think, as you
added flower after flower to your nosegay, how the plants which
bear them have been building up their green leaves and their
fragile buds during the last few weeks? If you had visited the
same spot a month before, a few (of) last year's leaves,
withered and dead, would have been all that you would have found.
And now the whole wood is carpeted with delicate green leaves,
with nodding bluebells, and pale-yellow primroses, as if a fairy
had touched the ground and covered it with fresh young life.
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