Poetry Is The Eloquence Of

Loveliest Of Lovely Things Are They, On Earth, That Soonest Pass Away. The Rose That Lives Its Little Hour Is Prized Beyond The Sculptured Flower.

Look On This Beautiful World, And Read The Truth In Her Fair Page.

And The Blue Gentian-flower, That, In The Breeze, Nods Lonely, Of Her Beauteous Race The Last.

Here The Free Spirit Of Mankind, At Length, Throws Its Last Fetters Off; And Who Shall Place A Limit To The Giant's Unchained Strength, Or Curb His Swiftness In The Forward Race?

Showers And Sunshine Bring, Slowly, The Deepening Verdure O'er The Earth; To Put Their Foliage Out, The Woods Are Slack, And One By One The Singing-birds Come Back.