Youth and Age walked hand in hand beneath the trees. A strange, half-frozen day, yet the air was drenched with thin sunshine, and the blue sky full of white winged clouds…The garden beds were smothered under a mauve mist of Michaelmas daisies, burning with the dusky fires of chrysanthemum blossoms. In the dew pearled grass white daisies, like butterflies, quivered and shone.

Age walked slowly. The riotous Autumn wind blew her black skirt about her shapeless body; her strange face gleamed like ivory in the silver setting of her hair. And she stared with faded eyes at the blackened boughs of the trees, at the leaves, falling in a fluttering crowd upon the dew pearled grass. One leaf touched her cheek - God! it was like a kiss from the withered mouth of Death! And in the bare trees she saw her naked soul, to be tossed, defenceless, in the fury of a thousand tempests, to be torn, limb from limb, by Winter, by her last lover, by Death…Her heart beat in her body like a frightened bird - a caged bird that beat its wings - in vain - in vain-

Youth suddenly stood still, her laughing child face lit with sunlight, and stretched out her white arms, her rosy tipped fingers to the blackened boughs. Ever the leaves fell in a shining shower upon her radiant face and bosom. Her heart beat in her body like a restless bird, like a strong bird that if it did but spread its wings would fly away - away - “See,” she cried to Age, “see the kisses of Summer, the golden leaves from the fairy book of Spring.”