Summer has set in with its usual severity.

The one red leaf, the last of its clan, / That dances as often as dance it can, / Hanging so light, and hanging so high, / On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.

Signals, Drums, Guns, Bells, & the sound of Voices weighing up & clearing Anchors ... Monday April 9th, 1804, really set sail ... No health or Happiness without Work.

It didn't seem to have its usual vibrancy.

Let this iniquity be viewed in its true magnitude, and in the shocking light in which it has been set in this conversation; let the wretched case of the poor blacks be considered with proper pity and benevolence, together with the probably dreadful consequence to this land of retaining them in bondage, and all objection against liberating them would vanish.

Poetry: the best words in the best order.