Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere.
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
Although it fall and die that night;
It was the plant and flower of light.
In small proportions we just beauties see,
And in short measure life may perfect be."
This is the true philosophy; to make our life as perfect as our faculties will permit, and to look upon it as the introduction to a grander life, where the problems here discussed shall find a satisfactory solution.
"Oh for the time when in our seraph wings