Grown about by Fragrant bushes,
Sunken in a winding valley,
Where the clear winds blow
And the shadows come and go,
And the cattle stand and low
And the sheep bells and the linnets
Sing and tinkle musically.
Between the past and the future,
Those two black infinities
Between which our brief life
Flashes a moment and goes out.
the early blooms
are wilted; they’ll be gone when
the tight buds open.
In the forest, I saw a deer;
It sniffed the air with urgent fear...,
And then resumed its feeding,
Finding the threat of me misleading.
the low morning sun
burns through gray clouds; the
still lake looks iced over
The morns are meeker than they were --
The nuts are getting brown --
The berry's cheek is plumper --
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf --
The field a scarlet gown --
Lest I sh'd be old-fashioned
I'll put a trinket on.
Away trots a baby rhino.
It's the smallest rhino that I know,
And, yet, if it trotted on your foot,
Your foot would definitely be kaput.
