Leaves And Bark, Leaves And Bark, To

I End Not Far From My Going Forth By Picking The Faded Blue Of The Last Remaining Aster Flower To Carry Again To You.

Our Life Runs Down In Sending Up The Clock. The Brook Runs Down In Sending Up Our Life. The Sun Runs Down In Sending Up The Brook. And There Is Something Sending Up The Sun.

The Chance Is The Remotest, Of Its Going Much Longer Unnoticed, That I'm Not Keeping Pace With The Headlong Human Race

Loosely Bound By Countless Silken Ties Of Love And Thought To Everything On Earth The Compass Round

The Heart Can Think Of No Devotion Greater Than Being Shore To The Ocean- Holding The Curve Of One Position, Counting An Endless Repetition.