Thine eyes are springs in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen. Their lashes are the herbs that look On their young figures in the brook.

The groves were God's first temples.

Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven's own blue.

A herd of prairie-wolves will enter a field of melons and quarrel about the division of the spoils as fiercely and noisily as so many politicians.

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.

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

Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger.