Do you not like these yellow flowers?
_Aglauron._ They gleam upon the fields as if to express the
bridal kiss of the sun. He seems most happy, if not most wealthy, when
first he is wed to the earth.
_Laurie._ I believe I have some such feeling about these golden
flowers. When I did not know what was the Asphodel, so celebrated by
the poets, I thought it was a golden flower; yet this yellow is so
ridiculed as vulgar.
_Aglauron_. It is because our vulgar luxury depreciates objects
not fitted to adorn our dwellings. These yellow flowers will not bear
being token out of their places and brought home to the centre-table.
But, when enamelling the ground, the cowslip, the king-cup,--nay, the
marigold and dandelion even,--are resplendently beautiful.
_Laurie_. They are the poor man's gold. See that dark, unpointed
house, with its lilac shrubbery. As it stands, undivided from the road
to which the green bank slopes down from the door, is not the effect
of that enamel of gold dandelions beautiful?
_Aglauron_. It seems as if a stream of peace had flowed from the
door-step down to the very dust, in waves of light, to greet the
passer-by. That is, indeed, a quiet house.
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