Who leaps the walls to enjoy the flowers
Forever loses the wasted hours.
The lane is long, and the lane is bare,
'Tis tiresome ever to journey there;
But on forever the soul must wend—
And who can tell where the lane will end?"
The thought was given. Its mission done,
The grass was cast to the dust and sun;
And the sun shone on it, and saw it die
With all three leaves turned toward the sky.