The first strenuous effort of my mind was to grasp the meaning, subtle as odour, in these words. Innumerable meanings wreathed away unattainable to thought. The finer senses could just perceive them ere they vanished. Then as I grew material, two camps were pitched and two armies prepared to fight to establish one distinct meaning. 'Violets are over, so I send you roses'; she writes you simple fact. Nay, 'Our time of violets is over, now for us the roses'; she gives you heavenly symbolism.
'From violets to roses, so run the seasons.'
Or is it,
'From violets to roses, thus far have we two travelled?'
But would she merely say, 'I have not this kind of flower, and I send you another?'
True, but would she dare to say, 'The violets no longer express my heart; take the roses?'
'Maidenly, and a Princess, yet sweet and grateful, she gives you the gracefullest good speed.
'Noble above all human distinctions, she binds you to herself, if you will it.'
The two armies came into collision, the luck of the day going to the one
I sided with.
But it was curiously observable that the opposing force recovered energy from defeat, while mine languished in victory. I headed them alternately, and—it invariably happened so.