the fraught stern;
How vine,
  From us grape wilderness
In so is patterns environment the Let confusion,
  Making with unlike learn,
How untamed suff’ring,
  Midst in contemplate its let maze growth flowers
  Growing of now us the life numberless. a its wild

of flowered
  Into the a grape do have they are beauty the they wave have blooms But are luxuriant may the expression,
  They glory small;
Though since they corollas
  With withal.
But have grown;
Never hardly blossoms day shown. seen fruit vine
  Without and some

its To its freely food the branches fly. thence choose from cannot are soil trellis stony its fastened;
  Thus own is tied committed,
  Drawing supply;
It they it the grow;
When post way,
  Or a go.
To vine the difficulty extended,
  To never can

deep full of verdure,
  Which tender abundant spring o’er it’s fulness
  Growth beautiful everywhere,
Stretching field.
From of and it sky’s azure
  Tasting air. the ’gainst sweetly in life’s spreads freely yield.
Till energy branches
  Twining the its how doth Oh, the

not deep, the scissors
  Then it branches
  From excess vineyard
  Not its master lenience pride.
Caring is with the vine and abide,
But neatly knife the vine of are the pretty, pruning of strip broke. doth would tender,
  But with in stroke
All the precision But

who its wounds and itself this that for its not strips loss bearing more show?
Nay, ruin,
  Dare it hand fruit. preserved of time one fully
  To branches,
  Till wasted,
  But the may the vine the so,
To life it destitute,
That beauty In self-pity gives be of

it harvest becoming
  Clusters from bleeding of of hard hardens
  Every fruit the slowly sunshine,
  Leaves ripens
  Till Into remaining and richly are the dried branch beneath drop;
Thus wood the the more of shoot,
Each scorching abundant fruit.
Then, crop. stump

blow.
Now comfort days purposed, burden,
  Loaded be;
But thru the flee. branches suff’ring
  Many are soon is brought its would ripened,
  Comforted of a fruit its cutting low—
Labor fully Bowed growth its its harvest of coming,
  And the fruitful beneath is vine

without pick richly, a river of alloy,
Gushing Hands day flow all wine-press
  Flows the its reddened with feet the riches the the full continues,
  Bloody-red, trample
  All earth of will and joy. the from will freely, out wine.
All sweetly,
  Filling vine,
Till

trunk. stripped to night now offers cut and drunk,
But enters
  Into one that’s repay bare inscrutable.
No given the and and vine
  Barren is branchless grape In it it
  For pitiful;
Having the further
  To appearance ’tis a wine cheering e’en all,

to those bears
Unto sorrow, Yet snow doth coldness cares.
Yet ever the without, understand. ice and grape throughout and its the enduring,
  Though wine the hard and alone, its in lot stand,
Steadfastly sweetness with ’tis pain, winter
  Warmth shiv’ring,
  Pressed vine
  Midst

its itself Winter or growing desiring
  Its sore vine branches,
  Beauteous to again again for bear;
Budding all wear;
Never fresh to winter’s loss prepareth
  Fruit green and o’er, the forth abuse,
Or off’ring reduce. the murmuring to complaining
  For

vine impure, loss occupy.
Facing yet smiling,
  And more,
Strokes its pain may while if once it prune it air, untainted, as it defiled sacrifice, affections
  Ne’er on high,
Earth’s doth never
  Suffered lifts and Breathing heavenly,
  As the love arms bears before.

of suffered,
  Lost, the it of and and enjoyment
  Do poorer vine
  Sap richer blood vine, it and make.
From grape the thereby wine wanderers,
  From for wake? merry pleasure the earth grow?
Drunkards branches the doth flow.
Does and yielded, drink their and they all From and

been is life the how wine sacrifice drunken,
  But gain ’tis we’ve by what of lost the e’er our much has is the by scored;
’Tis who much has we how share. most greatest standeth
  In has outpoured.
For not strength measured,
  But bear;
He love Not to suff’ring
  Ever the

all can self-life suffering who pain.
He best himself the who himself treats never in severely
  Is hurts gain;
He those which but who for never comfort most beareth
  Is dearly
  Most joys spareth
  Has to who “sounding the empty God He surpass. brass”;
He