They Remind One, Too, Of The Gorgeous Colored Butterflies Which Flew About All Summer, At First Things Of Beauty, Dazzling The Eye With Their Brilliant Colors; Haunting The Most Fragrant Flowers For Nectar, Reveling In The Sunshine The Whole Day Long.

Now they appear in their torn and faded robes to hover over a few pale flowers as if "loath to leave the scenes of their summer's revelings."

Only the more hardy remain to enjoy the grandeur of the winter ocean like the chickadees and cardinal grosbeaks that enliven our winter woods. The many flowered asters remain regal and cheery though a thousands winds may blow. Those who see the real beauty and indescribable grandeur of the ocean here, if they cannot remain, will show evidences in their beneficent lives that they have had a wonderful summer by the sea. Here amid the most beautiful manifestations of Nature's power and grandeur they have gained broader hopes, higher aspirations and a purer life. They leave the frivolous things of life on its remotest shores, where a few returning tides bury them in the sands of forgetfulness or the receding waves wash them like clams far out to sea.

Look at the fate of summer flowers, Which blow at daybreak, droop ere evensong And, grieved for their brief date, confess that ours Measured by what we are and ought to be, Measured by all that, trembling we foresee, Is not so long!

The deepest grove whose foliage hid The happiest lovers' Arcady might boast, Could not the entrance of this thought forbid: O be thou wise as they, soul-gifted maid! Nor rate too high what must so quickly fade, So soon be lost!

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