There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye; There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by.
Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven's own blue.
The victory of endurance born.
Adversity is the nurse of greatness which roughly rocks her patients back to health.
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief.
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.