Elizabeth Robins Pennell,
Two Pilgrims' Progress; from fair Florence…
“ To one side was the gray mountain, to the other dense cypresses, and above a blue, cloudless [pg 86] sky. The roses were still in bloom, and as we lingered there, the Abate went from bush to bush and picked for me a large bunch of fragrant buds. I hope if the monks ever do come back that, while they throw open the windows of the pharmacy and let the light in again upon the majolica and the dark woodwork, they will leave the gates of the garden locked. It is fairer in its confusion than it ever could be with weeded paths and well-clipped bushes. ”
