Life, 1922-07-13 · page 5 of 36
Life — July 13, 1922 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page features a poem titled "A Garden Idyl" (with an apology to Robert Herrick, the 17th-century poet). It's not political satire but rather a literary parody celebrating seasonal garden changes. The poem contrasts the garden's beauty across seasons—spring bulbs and roses, April's iris, summer's velvet petals—with November's barrenness when "Chlorophyl, supremely vernal / Has faded from the shapes eternal." The accompanying illustration shows figures in a wooded garden setting. The "idyl" humorously suggests that despite nature's cycles of growth and decay, each season's changes bring "equal grace" that "Makes glad the heart, and dims the eyes / With gratitude and sweet surprise." This is nostalgic, nature-focused content rather than social commentary.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
cA GARDEN IDYL (With apologies to Robert Herrick) J]/ HENAS in bulbs my garden glows, Then, then, methinks, no Summer rose Can equal as it blows and grows, The satisfaction it bestows ! And then, when April wanes, and May Runs riot with her Iris sway, 5 2 A Then, then, methinks, has come the day og BSS 3 fy That far eclipses yesterday ! But when the Queen of months appears And dries the Spring's too frequent tears, And on each post and trellis rears, Her accolade of bloom,—endears Each winding path and archéd seat With countless thousand breathings sweet, Then, then, methinks, no lovelier hour Can e’er surpass Midsummer's power! Yet, when the velvet petals fall, And earth is strewn with fragrant pall, When tender shades are seen no more, And glories never dreamed before Are wearing now with poignant hints A tapestry of Autumn tints, Then, then, methinks, hearts cannot guess Such undiluted loveliness! But when November sweeps her mist And with bare Winter keeps her tryst,— When Chlorophyl, supremely vernal Has faded from the shapes eternal,— And trees and shrubs their souls lay bare And thistledown isiin the air, When pines against the sky are etched And twigs and plants by Nature sketched, And every purple stem is drawn With cobwebs fine, from eve to dawn— When twitterings in hedge and bush Swell silence into sunset’s hush, Then, then, methinks, each season's pace, That's born or dies, with equal grace Makes glad the heart, and dims the eyes With gratitude and sweet surprise. M. S. ae oe Ke Reduces Mouser. i > comicbooks.com