We Come From The Earth, We Return

Through The Dripping Weeks That Follow One Another Slow, And Soak Summer's Extinguished Fire And Autumn's Drifting Smoke.

Have You Never, When Waves Were Breaking, Watched Children At Sport On The Beach, With Their Little Feet Tempting The Foam-fringe, Till With Stronger And Further Reach Than They Dreamed Of, A Billow Comes Bursting, How They Turn And Scamper And Screech!

He Is Dead Already Who Doth Not Feel Life Is Worth Living Still.

Exclusiveness In A Garden Is A Mistake As Great As It Is In Society.

No One Can Rightly Call His Garden His Own Unless He Himself Made It.