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the place was a wilderness of autumn gold and purple and violet blue and flaming scarlet and on every side were sheaves of late lilies standing together - lilies which were white or white and ruby. he remembered well when the first of them had been planted that just at this season of the year their late glories should reveal themselves. late roses climbed and hung and clustered and the sunshine deepening the hue of the yellowing trees made one feel that one stood in an embowered temple of gold. the newcomer stood silent just as the children had done when they came into its grayness. he looked round and round.

the secret garden, frances hodgson burnett

on that first morning when the sky was blue again mary wakened very early. the sun was pouring in slanting rays through the blinds and there was something so joyous in the sight of it that she jumped out of bed and ran to the window. she drew up the blinds and opened the window itself and a great waft of fresh, scented air blew in upon her. the moor was blue and the whole world looked as if something magic had happened to it. there were tender little fluting sounds here and there and everywhere, as if scores of birds were beginning to tune up for a concert. mary put her hand out of the window and held it in the sun.

the secret garden, frances hodgson burnett

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patrick doyle ~ cristina elisa waltz a little princess ost.

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