For Those Who Love... Time Is Eternity.

Who Can Explain The Secret Pathos Of Nature's Loveliness? It Is A Touch Of Melancholy Inherited From Our Mother Eve. It Is An Unconscious Memory Of The Lost Paradise. It Is The Sense That Even If We Should Find Another Eden, We Would Not Be Fit To Enjoy It Perfectly Nor Stay In It Forever.

Let Me But Find It In My Heart To Say, When Vagrant Wishes Beckon Me Astray, "this Is My Work; My Blessing, Not My Doom; Of All Who Live, I Am The One By Whom This Work Can Best Be Done In The Right Way."

I Heard Through The Nightthe Rush And The Clamour;the Pulse Of The Fightlike Blows Of Thor's Hammer;the Pattering Flightof The Leaves, And The Anguishedmoan Of The Forest Vanquished.

Like Water Spilt Upon The Ground--alas, Our Little Lives Flow Swiftly On And Pass; Yet May They Bring Rich Harvests And Green Grass!

If All The World Were Music, Our Hearts Would Often Long For One Sweet Strain Of Silence. To Break The Endless Song.