the sun at
noon
And was there not truth in what he said ? May there not have been love in the heart of the girl ? Not , maybe , the love which stands sweet and sturdy like the stocky hyacinth , to bloom afresh , no matter how often the flowers be struck , or the leaves be bruised , from the humdrum bulb deep in the soil of quiet content . But the God-given , iridescent love of youth for youth , with its passion so swift , so sweet ; a love like the rose-bud which hangs half-closed over the door in the dawn ; which is wide-flung to the sun at noon ; which scatters its petals at dusk . The rose ! She has filled your days with the memory of her fragrance ; her leaves still scent the night from out the sealed crystal vase which is your heart . But , an ' you would attain the priceless boon of peace , see to it that a humdrum bulb be planted in the brown flower-pot which is your home .