The large white owl that with eye is blind, That hath sate for years in the old tree hollow, Is carried away in a gust of wind.

Nosegays! leave them for the waking, Throw them earthward where they grew Dim are such, beside the breaking Amaranths he looks unto. Folded eyes see brighter colors than the open ever do.

Folded eyes see brighter colors than the open ever do.

What we call Life is a condition of the soul. And the soul must improve in happiness and wisdom, except by its own fault. These tears in our eyes, these faintings of the flesh, will not hinder such improvement.