A Man Is A Very

I Think That Travel Comes From Some Deep Urge To See The World, Like The Urge That Brings Up A Worm In An Irish Bog To See The Moon When It Is Full.

It Was The Hour When Gauze-winged Insects Are Born That Only Live For A Day.

Everyone's Future Is, In Reality, Uncertain And Full Of Unknown Treasures From Which All May Draw Unguessed Prizes.

If One Who Looked From A Tower For A New Star, Watching For Years The Same Part Of The Sky, Suddenly Saw It (quite By Chance While Thinking Of Other Things), And Knew It For The Star For Which He Had Hoped, How Many Millions Of Men Would Never Care?

And At That Moment A Wind Came Out Of The Northwest, And Entered The Woods And Bared The Golden Branches, And Danced Over The Downs, And Led A Company Of Scarlet And Golden Leaves, That Had Dreaded This Day But Danced Now It Had Come; And Away With A Riot Of Dancing And Glory Of Colour, High In The Light Of The Sun That Had Set From The Sight Of The Fields, Went Wind And Leaves Together.