[Vampiromud-bug-hunters] t they did.

[Mahaley Kunshier]

Peak to tell fittingly about it. Not all at once, nor all together,
but a thinning, a lifting,
a breaking,

a wearing away; a little withdrawing here, a little withdrawing
there;
and now a peep, and now a peep; a bride lifting her veil to her
husband! Blue! White! Lilies! Blue lilies! White
lilies! Blue and white lilies! And still blue
and white lilies! And still!
And still! Wherever the veil lifted, still and
always the bride! Not in clumps and bunches, not in spots and
patches, not in
banks, meadows, acres, but in--yes; for still it
lifted beyond and beyond and beyond; the eye could not touch the
limit of them, for the eye can touch only the limit of vision; and
the lilies filled the whole sea-marsh, for that is the way spring
comes to the sea-marshes. The sedge-roots might have been unsightly
along the water's edge, but there
were morning-glories,
all colors, all shades--oh, such morning-glories as we
of the city never see! Our city morning-glories must dream of them,
as we dream of angels. Only God could be so lavish!
Dropping from the tall spear-heads to the water, into the water,
under the water. And then, the reflection of them, in all their
colors, blue, white, pink, purple,
red, rose, violet! To think of an obscure little Acadian bayou waking
to flow the first thing in the morning not only through banks of
new-blown morning-glories, but sown also to its depths with such
reflections as must make it think itself a bayou in heaven, instead
of in Paroisse St. Martin. Perhaps that is the reason the poor poets
think themselves poets, on account of the beautiful things that are
only
reflected into their minds from what is above? Besides the
reflections, there were alligators in the bayou, trying to slip away
before
we could see them, and watching us with their stupid, senile eyes,
sometimes from under the thickest, prettiest flowery bowers;
and turtles splashing into the water ahead of us; and fish
(silver-sided perch), looking like
reflections themselves, floating through the flower reflections,
nibbling
their breakfast. Our bayou had been
running through swamp only a little more solid
than itself; in fact, there was no solidity but what came from the ro
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