This, then, above all things strikes one, a grower is a man steeped in his work; he lives in the midst of it, he rises with it, and goes to bed with it. On his few holidays he goes to see the achievements of others in it, or, better still, the working of nature. He goes to see other things too, no doubt, he has other interests—pictures, or music, or literature, or languages—he is no narrow uncultivated man; but his work stands first, a long, long way first, he and it are curiously and indissolubly one. So for this reason I say at the last, as I said at the first, those who would see and know the bulb gardens of Holland should also know the men who for generations have grown the bulbs, and loved and understood them.
APPENDICES
... dans leur sympathie, ils m’ont dû garder place,
Car ils ne savent pas donner à moitié,
On conserve longtemps un beau fruit dans la glace,
Les gens de climat froid sont de chaude amitié.
Et puisque vous avez cette aimable pensée
De vouloir que mes vers vous présentent là-bas,
Dites bien tout d’abord à la foule empressée