Still Sweet With Blossoms Is The Year's

Old Ocean's Gray And Melancholy Waste.

Stand Here By My Side And Turn, I Pray, On The Lake Below Thy Gentle Eyes; The Clouds Hang Over It, Heavy And Gray, And Dark And Silent The Water Lies; And Out Of That Frozen Mist The Snow In Wavering Flakes Begins To Flow; Flake After Flake, They Sink In The Dark And Silent Lake.

Go Forth Under The Open Sky, And List To Nature's Teachings.

Truth, Crushed To Earth, Shall Rise Again.

The Stormy March Has Come At Last, With Winds And Clouds And Changing Skies; I Hear The Rushing Of The Blast That Through The Snowy Valley Flies.