Frances Hodgson Burnett Quote
Think it has been left alone so long—that it has grown all into a lovely tangle. I think the roses have climbed and climbed and climbed until they hang from the branches and walls and creep over the ground—almost like a strange gray mist. Some of them have died but many—are alive and when the summer comes there will be curtains and fountains of roses. I think the ground is full of daffodils and snowdrops and lilies and iris working their way out of the dark. Now the spring has begun—perhaps—perhaps— The soft drone of her voice was making him stiller and stiller and she saw it and went on. Perhaps they are coming up through the grass—perhaps there are clusters of purple crocuses and gold ones—even now.
Think it has been left alone so long—that it has grown all into a lovely tangle. I think the roses have climbed and climbed and climbed until they hang from the branches and walls and creep over the ground—almost like a strange gray mist. Some of them have died but many—are alive and when the summer comes there will be curtains and fountains of roses. I think the ground is full of daffodils and snowdrops and lilies and iris working their way out of the dark. Now the spring has begun—perhaps—perhaps— The soft drone of her voice was making him stiller and stiller and she saw it and went on. Perhaps they are coming up through the grass—perhaps there are clusters of purple crocuses and gold ones—even now.