And I now recall the impressions of springtime, all the fresh splendor¹ of May; and I remember vividly² the lonely road called the Fountain road.  
(As I am endeavoring to put my recollections into some sort of order I think that at this time I must have been about five years old.)
 
I was old enough at any rate to take walks with my father and my sister, and I went out with them this dewy morning. I was in ecstasy³ to see that everything had become so green, to see the budding foliage⁴ and the tasselled shrubs⁵ and hedges. Along the sides of the road the grass was all the same length, and the flowers in the grass with their exquisite⁶ mingling⁷ of the red of the geranium and the blue of the speedwell, made the whole earth seem a great bouquet⁸. As I plucked the flowers I scarcely knew which way to run; in my eagerness I trod upon them and my legs became wet from the dew—I marvelled⁹ at all the richness at my disposal, and I longed to take great armfuls of the flowers and carry them away with me.
 
My sister, who had gathered a sprig of hawthorn¹⁰, one of iris¹¹ and some long sheath-like grasses le............