My day is done, and I am like a boat drawn on the beach, listening to the dance-music of the tide in the evening.

The music of the far-away summer flutters around the Autumn seeking its former nest.

Not hammer-strokes, but dance of the water, sings the pebbles into perfection.

Not yesterday I learned to know,The love of bare November days,Before the coming of the snow.

Choose the day and choose the sign of your day! The day's divinity! First thing you see!!

I alone of English writers have consciously set myself to make music out of what I may call the sound of sense.