I See My Trees Repair Their Boughs.

As Soon As There Is Life There Is Danger.

Work And Acquire, And Thou Hast Chained The Wheel Of Chance.

Everything In Our World, Even A Drop Of Dew, Is A Microcosm Of The Universe.

Each Age, It Is Found, Must Write Its Own Books; Or Rather, Each Generation For The Next Succeeding.

I See The Spectacle Of Morning From The Hilltop Over Against My House, From Daybreak To Sunrise, With Emotions Which An Angel Might Share. The Long Slender Bars Of Cloud Float Like Fishes In The Sea Of Crimson Light. From The Earth, As A Shore, I Look Out Into That Silent Sea. I Seem To Partake Its Rapid Transformations; The Active Enchantment Reaches My Dust, And I Dilate And Conspire With The Morning Wind.