The tiniest brooks that scarcely flow
Eternally will come and go.
There is no kind of death to kill
The sands that lie so meek and still....
But Man is great and strong and wise—
And so he dies.
Allen Upward
SCENTED LEAVES FROM A CHINESE JAR
THE ACACIA LEAVES
The aged man, when he beheld winter approaching, counted the leaves as they lapsed from the acacia trees; while his son was talking of the spring.