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Article 3
NEW BLOOMby Josephine Preston PeabodyI heard the lilies growing in the nightWhen none did hark;I knew they made a glimmer, dimly whiteIn the cool dreaming dark.Nothing the garden knew,—So soft they...
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Article 2
278. The CedarsBy Josephine Preston PeabodyALL down the years the fragrance came,The mingled fragrance, with a flame,Of cedars breathing in the sun,The cedar-trees of Lebanon. O thirst of song in...
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Article 1
Sonnet in a Garden by Josephine Preston PeabodyDUMB Mother of all music, let me restOn thy great heart while summer days pass by;While all the heat up-quivers, let me lieClose gathered to the fragrance...
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Article 0
The ProphetJosephine Preston PeabodyALL day long he kept the sheep:—Far and early, from the crowd,On the hills from steep to steep,Where the silence cried aloud;And the shadow of the cloud 5Wrapt him...
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Article 9
In the Hayfield by E. P. Powellhttp://www.whitelotusblog.com/2015/12/in-hayfield-by-e-p-powell.htmlhttps://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AJosef_Kinzel_Abendläuten_1903.jpg
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Article 8
SONG OF THE THRESHER By Clarence HawkesIn the autumn time when the barn is sweet With the scent of hay and the fragrant wheat, When corn and rye and the slender oats Are lying still in their autumn...
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Article 7
Among the landmarks that are associated with our childhood, we can never forget the Dear Old Barn, another spot ever holding a hallowed-place in our youthfulmemories. It was the place of many joys and...
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Article 6
IN HAYIN' TIME by May Phillips Tatro(Dedicated to Mr. Ed. S. Whittaker).Tell you what I like the best of anything on earth,An' it's about the last of June it has its natural birth;It comes a kind o'...
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Article 5
But perhaps one of the greatest charms of an early country walk is derived from the pleasant scent of the air. The honey-suckle, the field convolvulus, and the violet, diffuse a fragrance so soft and...
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Article 4
It was a true September morning. Spaces of dark blue sky shone in a cloud-dappled heaven, as if they, and not the clouds, were flitting over the ether of space. Long streaks of ultramarine blue,...
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Article 3
Even those tokens of the season which emphatically whispered of the coming winter, graced the landscape, and, for the moment, tinged its livelier features with no oppressive air of sadness. The fallen...
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Article 2
There's the smell of the earth, too—'specially just as the plough turns it up—which is a fine thing; and the hedges and the grass are as sweet as sugar after a shower. -Richard...
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Article 1
In another place there had been Fall plowing, and the scent which came from the upturned soil was particularly rare and pleasing. It suggested days of bare-footed boyhood and evenings of youth when the...
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Article 0
The salt-hay making was over at last. The marshes were dotted as far as eye could see by the round haystacks with their deftly pointed tops. These gave a great brilliance of color to the landscape,...
View ArticleFragrance in Nature Literature-Idylls of the field (1890)-Knight, Francis A.
Idylls of the field (1890)-Knight, Francis A. Over the soft earth turned up by mouse and mole and worm, until the foot sinks deep at every step, is spread a very carpet of celandine leaves, strewn with...
View ArticlePerfume Bazaar In Literature
On our way back we wandered through a Turkish perfume bazaar. As we passed along between the rows of booths, on the counters of which the Turkish perfumers were sitting cross-legged, their goods...
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DEAD LEAVES. By Edith Nesbit
DEAD LEAVES. By Edith NesbitNot Summer's crown of scent the red rose weaves, Not hawthorn perfume blown o'er bloom-strewn grass, Not violets' whispers as the children pass, Nor new-mown hay, crisp...
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Bayberry Candles-Nye family of America
Every farmer raised flax and wool, and every woman could knit, spin and weave. Everything needed for home consumption, food, drink, medicine, fire and light, was close at hand, but it required much of...
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Article 8
It is in vain to talk of danger where sensuality preponderates; numerous accidents cure not men of epicurism; whole families are poisoned by gathering mushrooms in the wood of Boulogne, the forest of...
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Article 7
The last village was far behind. The last happychapel -goer had passed me long ago. A cockcrowed once and said the last word on repose.The rain fell gently ; the stems of the hazels inthe thickets...
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