WITCHING PATHWAYS 



THE pleasures of reminiscence ! Who 

 is able to measure them? Who is 

 able to explain the allurement of 

 the past? Who can resist the witch- 

 ing music of the streams that mur- 

 mur through the fields where youth 

 went free and happy? Who falls 

 not a-dreaming when the light clouds 

 which floated over the blue of summer 

 skies long ago once more float in the 

 memory? 



Some trivial thing the rose petal 

 falling, the bird note at evening, the 

 smell of the morning air, the mottled 

 shadows on the forest floor will 

 bring old scenes to me, and blissfully 



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