An Ode to the Dogwood
An Ode to the Tulip
It can hardly but sober a man to consider how he will be remembered after he at last shuffles off this mortal coil. Will he, in that dim light of dusk on Jordan’s bank, depart in the assurance that he done all, lived all, loved all that he could? Will he, when his works become manifest on that Day and are tested by fire, have anything to show for that which he toiled under the sun? Did he, as Moses prayed, number his days aright?