Difficulty Is The Nurse Of Greatness.

The Country Ever Has A Lagging Spring, Waiting For May To Call Its Violets Forth, And June Its Roses-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. Within The City's Bounds The Time Of Flowers Comes Earlier. Let A Mild And Sunny Day, Such As Full Often, For A Few Bright Hours, Breathes Through The Sky Of March The Airs Of May, Shine On Our Roofs And Chase The Wintry Gloom- And Lo! Our Borders Glow With Sudden Bloom.

A Melancholy Sound Is In The Air, A Deep Sigh In The Distance, A Shrill Wail Around My Dwelling. 'tis The Wind Of Night.

I Grieve For Life's Bright Promise, Just Shown And Then Withdrawn.

The Linden, In The Fervors Of July, Hums With A Louder Concert. When The Wind Sweeps The Broad Forest In Its Summer Prime, As When Some Master-hand Exulting Sweeps The Keys Of Some Great Organ, Ye Give Forth The Music Of The Woodland Depths, A Hymn Of Gladness And Of Thanks.

Can Anything Be Imagined More Abhorrent To Every Sentiment Of Generosity And Justice, Than The Law Which Arms The Rich With The Legal Right To Fix, By Assize, The Wages Of The Poor? If This Is Not Slavery, We Have Forgotten Its Definition. Strike The Right Of Associating For The Sale Of Labor From The Privileges Of A Freeman, And You May As Well Bind Him To A Master, Or Ascribe Him To The Soil.