God, unto whom all hearts are open, unto whom all will
is spoken, unto whom nothing is hidden,
I beseech Thee to cleanse the intent of my heart
with the unspeakable gift of Thy grace that
I may perfectly love Thee and worthily praise Thee.
Now are come the days of brown leaves. They fall from the trees; they flutter on the ground. ... I hear them tell you of their borning days, when they did come into the world as leaves. ... Today, they were talking of the time before their borning days of the springtime. ... They told how they were a part of earth and air, before their tree-borning days. And now they are going back. They go back to the earth again. But they do not die.