Glorious Are The Woods In Their Latest

Ah, Never Shall The Land Forget How Gush'd The Life-blood Of The Brave, Gush'd Warm With Hope And Courage Yet, Upon The Soil They Fought To Save!

The Fiercest Agonies Have Shortest Reign; And After Dreams Of Horror, Comes Again The Welcome Morning With Its Rays Of Peace.

On Rolls The Stream With A Perpetual Sigh; The Rocks Moan Wildly As It Passes By; Hyssop And Wormwood Border All The Strand, And Not A Flower Adorns The Dreary Land.

Where Are The Flowers, The Fair Young Flowers, That Lately Sprang And Stood In Brighter Light And Softer Airs, A Beauteous Sisterhood?

Ah, Passing Few Are They Who Speak, Wild, Stormy Month! In Praise Of Thee; Yet Though Thy Winds Are Loud And Bleak, Thou Art A Welcome Month To Me. For Thou, To Northern Lands, Again The Glad And Glorious Sun Dost Bring, And Thou Hast Joined The Gentle Train And Wear'st The Gentle Name Of Spring.