i8o DAYS OF AUTUMN 



and beauty and fragrance in the spring; 

 deep in the earth lay the cocoons and 

 shells whence would arise the happy throng 

 of summery moths and butterflies. For 

 this is the purpose of autumn : rest and 

 quietude for those who have laboured 

 throughout the summer to ensure life for 

 their kind. So now in autumn my hope 

 is as firm as the oak. Every leaf that falls 

 is pushed from its hold by a bud awaiting 

 the mystic order to unfold itself in spring; 

 every flower lives but to form its seeds. 

 All through the centuries the spirits of the 

 flowers and the wild things have been 

 growing more beautiful in the knowledge 

 of their service. 



As I walked away a timid song sounded 

 on the air. Somewhere a robin was singing. 

 He was not made miserable by thought 

 he was happy every moment. He did not 

 need to brood upon immortality he lived 

 unconscious of time every moment was 

 lived, the beauty of the earth and the sun, 



