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Poem	Not from successful love alone, Nor wealth, nor honored middle age, nor vic- tories of politics or war. But as life wanes, and all the turbulent passions calm, As gorgeous, vapory, silent hues cover the even- ing sky, As softness, fulness, rest, suffuse the spirit and frame like freshier, balmier air; As the days take on a mellower light, and the apple at last hangs really finished and in- dolent ripe on the tree, Then for the teeming quietest, happiest days of all! The brooding and blissful halcyon days!
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