How dear to me the hour when daylight dies,
And sunbeams melt along the silent sea,
For then sweet dreams of other days arise,
And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee.
– Thomas Moore
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Against the majestic mountains and the mighty redwood tree what small, fragile things are we and how quickly our life passes by. Transient– but hopefully a passing filled with life's flowers Like the flight of a butterfly.
