The green under so many trees, This hint of a blue sky, The sharp air of a windy day, It is in the fading twilights Reflected in the faces of your friends. You shall read the beauty of closed flowers, This haunting color Of dried grass in the sun. It is the solitude, the moments, Ruffled by currents of breezes, That paint the world, as if, To shed light upon the troubled Nature of our passing days.

• Evelyn Scott