I, Answering In The End, Began: 'alas,

Nature Is The Art Of God.

As One Who Sees In Dreams And Wakes To Find The Emotional Impression Of His Vision Still Powerful While Its Parts Fade From His Mind - Just Such Am I, Having Lost Nearly All The Vision Itself, While In My Heart I Feel The Sweetness Of It Yet Distill And Fall.

The Customs And Fashions Of Men Change Like Leaves On The Bough, Some Of Which Go And Others Come.

Still Desiring, We Live Without Hope.

You Shall Leave Everything You Love.