There Is A Leisure About

Green, The Color Of Growth, Or Surgent Life, Enwraps The Land. New Green, Still As Individual As The Plants Themselves. Cool Green, Which Will Merge As The Weeks Pass, The Summer Comes, Into A Canopy Of Shade Of Busy Chlorophyll.

To See A Hillside White With Dogwood Bloom Is To Know A Particular Ecstasy Of Beauty, But To Walk The Gray Winter Woods And Find The Buds Which Will Resurrect That Beauty In Another May Is To Partake Of Continuity.

All Our Yesterdays Are Summarized In Our Now, And All The Tomorrows Are Ours To Shape.

He Who Travels West Travels Not Only With The Sun But With History.

October Is The Fallen Leaf, But It Is Also A Wider Horizon More Clearly Seen.