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expand2003 (1)
1Author:  Spofford Harriet Elizabeth Prescott 1835-1921Add
 Title:  The thief in the night  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: The garden lay sparkling under the earliest light of a June morning. A heaven everywhere a field of rose and azure soared over it; charming bird-songs trilled from its thickets; a breeze, that was only living fragrance, rifled its roses, swept up its avenues, and struck leaf and bough and blossom into light before it stripped them of their dewdrops in a shower. The Triton at the lower end of the little lake sent up a shaft of water-streams from his horn to catch the sunbeams and sprinkle them over the surface beneath, and beds of faintly blue forget-me-nots crept out to meet the pickerel-weed and lily-pads, — blue flags, and bluer weed, and waxen-white lilies just unclasping their petals, with here and there a floating ball of gold among them, — where the breeze dipped again in a shining ripple, and weeds and flags and lilies rocked and swayed before it. On the one side, the sweet-brier, climbing a pear-tree to reach the robin's nest, looked back with a hundred blushing blossoms, and blew a breath of delight to the damask-rose on the other. The damask said good-morning to the moss-rose; the moss-rose to the red; the red would have passed on the cheerful salutation, but the pale-white rose, upon its lofty stem, had been awake all night, had looked into the sick man's chamber, and learned what the ruddy-cheeked flowers, which hung their heads and went to sleep with the birds, were not to know. Nevertheless, a red-winged blackbird, lighting there and leaving, shook it so that half its petals fluttered away in pursuit; a little piece of jewel-work of a humming-bird darted by to join the frolic; a bluebird dropped a measure of melody from the spray where he was tilting, and followed after. Every thing, in all the bright and blooming garden, moved and glanced and blushed and glittered. Every thing spoke of life and joy and hope and health: nothing spoke of sad secrets or ill deeds. Every thing told of beauty and breath, the luxury of living: nothing told of death, or desolation.
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