One Must Be Businesslike, Although The Glass

All Craftsmen Share A Knowledge. They Have Heldreality Down Fluttering To A Bench.

One Must Be Businesslike, Although The Glass Is Falling.

It Is A Sad Moment When The First Phlox Appears. It Is The Amber Light Indicating The End Of The Great Burst Of Early Summer And Suggesting That We Must Now Start Looking Forward To Autumn. Not That I Have Any Objection To Autumn As A Season, Full Of Its Own Beauty; But I Just Cannot Bear To See Another Summer Go, And I Recoil From What The First Hint Of Autumn Means.

That Pathetic Short-cut Suggested By Nature The Supreme Joker As A Remedy For Our Loneliness, That Ephemeral Communion Which We Persuade Ourselves To Be Of The Spirit When It Is In Fact Only Of The Body - Durable Not Even In Memory!

It Always Seemed To Me That The Herbaceous Peony Is The Very Epitome Of June. Larger Than Any Rose, It Has Something Of The Cabbage Rose's Voluminous Quality; And When It Finally Drops From The Vase, It Sheds Its Petticoats With A Bump On The Table, All In An Intact Heap, Much As A Rose Will Suddenly Fall, Making Us Look Up From Our Book Or Conversation, To Notice For One Moment The Death Of What Had Still Appeared To Be A Living Beauty.