The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by. As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool clear sky.

Flowers spring up unsown and die ungathered.

The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come, And make their bed with thee.

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.

The victory of endurance born.

Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase is fruits of innocence and blessedness.

Adversity is the nurse of greatness which roughly rocks her patients back to health.