Dry leaves upon the wall, Which flap like rustling wings and seek escape, A single frosted cluster on the grape Still hangs--and that is all.

...this pause of rest, This morning hush before the sun.

As we meet and touch, each day, The many travelers on our way, Let every such brief contact be A glorious, helpful minister.

So, just for one more merry day To the great Tree the leaflets clung, Frolicked and danced and had their way, Upon the autumn breezes swung.

Ah, the pretty whisperers! It was very well When the leaves were thick and green, awhile ago-- Leaves are secret-keepers; but since the last leaf fell There is nothing hidden from the eyes below.

Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover.

Every day is a fresh beginning. Every morn is the world made anew.