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.
'She cannot mean so much as this.' 'She must mean more than that.' Thus the Absolute and the Symbolical factions struggled on.

A princess drew them as the moon the tides.
By degrees they subsided and united, each reserving its view; a point at which I imagined myself to have regained my proper humility.