“I remember once learning a poem called ‘Wild Roses of Cape Ann,’” said Julia, “and I suppose that we are not so far away from Cape Ann, but that we could apply it here. I think that I can recall a few lines;—
“‘Their paling glories light Cape Ann’s waste shore,
Bringing the presage of soft-lulling peace
For summer’s orient days, and brief surcease
Of wave and granite warring evermore.’”
Then, picking a bunch, she added,—
“‘Rose, thou are the sweetest flower
That ever drank the amber shower.’
“Moore, who wrote the last, means any roses,” she concluded, “although he had no thought of Cape Ann.”
“I never have such fine quotations to fit things,” said Brenda; “but I do love these wild roses. By and by, when they are gone, other flowers will come. The butter-and-eggs are beautiful, and there is a field over there that will soon be blue with purple irises, and then, of course, the goldenrod comes in the autumn. I have more love for wild flowers than you would expect in one of my frivolous disposition,” and she danced a few steps ahead of Julia.
“There’s a better road than this. In fact I don’t see why Thomas drove down here. This is too sandy for a carriage or bicycle. After this, we ’ll go to the beach on our wheels. There—I believe I ’ll take a ride this afternoon.
