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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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