To burst with sap, to bubble with the foam of the snow-melting's brooks, to germinate and rise and bloom, to speak- with the lightness of the winds, with the purling of the springs, with the sensing of the touch, To live is to flourish, to pass our days is to grow, or must be so; for cold airs surround us and ice-clouds about us glister and entomb.Life is a passing moment, a space of time; it is a