All Nature Seems At Work.

And They Three Passed Over The White Sands, Between The Rocks, Silent As The Shadows.

Therefore All Seasons Shall Be Sweet To Thee, Whether The Summer Clothe The General Earth With Greenness, Or The Redbreast Sit And Sing Betwixt The Tufts Of Snow On The Bare Branch Of Mossy Apple Tree.

The One Red Leaf, The Last Of Its Clan, That Dances As Often As Dance It Can, Hanging So Light, And Hanging So High, On The Topmost Twig That Looks Up At The Sky.

Ah Why Refuse The Blameless Bliss? Can Danger Lurk Within A Kiss?

If You Are Not A Thinking Man, To What Purpose Are You A Man At All?.