Looking on that hard, secluded
foliage fleece
Winter-denuded
of Summer's ease--You can still see

Dancing! declining to halt
even as Autumn must so soon exult
in deadly dignity

over th'Summer's sad metamorphosis
(in never-ending synthesis): Genesis!

But: It doesn't matter--Th'Age of Growth
folds its tired wings
like some old moth

& unhesitantly springs!
up to the skies' wistful Antithesis
after illusive Bliss:

Looks over th'hills' white and sees
all That's the same as This!...

"Cowardice the supremest act of wisdom
when it works out, Courage but
cowardice (where it's intruded
to some bad result)"

& weeping never to end
even past all seasons' mend.