Poetry is the eloquence of verse.
Truth crushed to earth shall rise again,- The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers.
Flowers spring up unsown and die ungathered.
Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.
The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
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.