Is Not Thy Home Among The Flowers?

The Melancholy Days Are Come, The Saddest Of The Year, Of Wailing Winds, And Naked Woods And Meadows Brown And Sear.

The Birch-bark Canoe Of The Savage Seems To Me One Of The Most Beautiful And Perfect Things Of The Kind Constructed By Human Art.

The Rose That Lives Its Little Hour Is Prized Beyone The Sculpted Flower.

Ah! Never Shall The Land Forget How Gushed The Life-blood Of Her Brave -

Remorse Is Virtue's Root; Its Fair Increase Is Fruits Of Innocence And Blessedness.