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.

Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth in her fair page.

A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep.

Ah! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave -

Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.

Sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

These struggling tides of life that seem In wayward, aimless course to tend, Are eddies of the mighty stream That rolls to its appointed end.