Autumn arrives like a warrior with the stain of blood upon his brazen mail. His crimson scarf is rent. His scarlet banner drips with gore. His step is like a flail upon the threshing floor.

All was silent as before - All silent save the dripping rain.

Talk not of wasted affection - affection never was wasted.

In the elder days of art Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part, For the Gods are everywhere

But the nearer the dawn the darker the night, And by going wrong all things come right. Things have been mended that were worse, and the the worse, the nearer they are to mend.

They who go Feel not the pain of parting; it is they Who stay behind that suffer.

Know how sublime a thing it is to suffer and be strong.