Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again.

Flowers spring up unsown and die ungathered.

To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.

Yet will that beauteous image make The dreary sea less drear And thy remembered smile will wake The hope that tramples fear

The birch-bark canoe of the savage seems to me one of the most beautiful and perfect things of the kind constructed by human art.

Genius, with all its pride in its own strength, is but a dependent quality, and cannot put forth its whole powers nor claim all its honors without an amount of aid from the talents and labors of others which it is difficult to calculate.

Still sweet with blossoms is the year's fresh prime.