Fragrance in Literature-Through the Ivory Gate Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews

Through the Ivory Gate- Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews

"It was a bright, crisp Christmas day, pleasant in the garden--the box
hedges were green and fragrant, aromatic in the sunshine. You don't
even know the smell of box in sunshine, you poor child! But I remember
that day, for I was ten years old, a right big girl, and it was a
beautiful morning for an invalid to take the air.

How was this? There was a
hedge as neat, as clipped, as any of Southampton in midseason, and
over it a glory of roses, red and white and pink and yellow, waved gay
banners to him in trim luxuriance. He swung toward them, and the
breeze brought him for the first time in his life the fragrance of box
in sunshine.

Saluting him bravely in the hot sunshine with its myriad shining sword
points, the old hedge sent out to Philip on the May breeze its ancient
welcome of aromatic fragrance, and the tall roses crowded gaily to
look over its edge at the new master. Slowly, a little dazed at this
oasis of shining order in the neglected garden, he walked to the
opening and stepped inside the hedge. The rose garden!

From over the border whence it had come
with so many loving efforts it would never come again. Slowly, with
the heavy weight in his arms, with the eyes of a man who had seen a
solemn thing, he walked back to the garden sleeping in the sunshine,
and the box hedges met him with a wave of fragrance, the sweetness of
a century ago; and as he passed through their shining door, looking
beyond, he saw Shelby.