And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.
Truth crushed to the earth will rise again!
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.
Poetry is the eloquence of verse.
Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.
A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.