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Summer is a sort of Ocean, but not boundless.
A bit of melancholy infects its further shore.
We would rather not return to the workaday,
but there is nowhere to remain.
Only a vagueness that grows chill.
Boy if that doesn't sum it up way beyond my ability to do so. Cheers to Mr. Wilson. I say cheers because I am taking the Wheel's advice concerning my precious sample of cask # 14240, a taste everyday, and what a taste.
And I truly wish I could not relate to you concerning the failing health of your father, but I can, and the eloquence of your grief should not be dismissed as "sophistry." You honor him.