The Year's In Wane; There

No Sun, No Moon, No Morn, No Noon, No Dawn, No Dusk, No Proper Time Of Day, . . . . . . No Road, No Street, No T' Other Side The Way, . . . . . . No Shade, No Shine, No Butterflies, No Bees, No Fruits, No Flowers, No Leaves, No Buds.

No Blessed Leisure For Love Or Hope, But Only Time For Grief.

How Bravely Autumn Paints Upon The Sky The Gorgeous Fame Of Summer Which Is Fled!

Bells Are Musics Laughter.

But Evil Is Wrought By Want Of Thought, As Well As Want Of Heart!