![]() ![]() ![]() The very sun and moon seem taken from us. ![]() Or strewn with fallen fruit: of these we know nothing and can knowįor us there is only one season, the season of sorrow. Vines, of the grass in the orchard made white with broken blossoms Of seed-time or harvest, of the reapersīending over the corn, or the grape gatherers threading through the Itself to those external forces the very essence of whose existence The very minutest detail like its brother, seems to communicate Pattern, so that we eat and drink and lie down and pray, or kneelĪt least for prayer, according to the inflexible laws of an ironįormula: this immobile quality, that makes each dreadful day in Life every circumstance of which is regulated after an unchangeable It seems toĬircle round one centre of pain. We can only record its moods, and chronicle their return. ![]()
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