Earth, That Nourished Thee, Shall Claim Thy

Poetry Is The Eloquence Of Verse.

Poetry Is That Art Which Selects And Arranges The Symbols Of Thought In Such A Manner As To Excite The Imagination The Most Powerfully And Delightfully.

Self-interest Is The Most Ingenious And Persuasive Of All The Agents That Deceive Our Consciences, While By Means Of It Our Unhappy And Stubborn Prejudices Operate In Their Greatest Force.

The Country Ever Has A Lagging Spring, Waiting For May To Call Its Violets Forth, And June Its Roses-showers And Sunshine Bring, Slowly, The Deepening Verdure O'er The Earth; To Put Their Foliage Out, The Woods Are Slack, And One By One The Singing-birds Come Back. Within The City's Bounds The Time Of Flowers Comes Earlier. Let A Mild And Sunny Day, Such As Full Often, For A Few Bright Hours, Breathes Through The Sky Of March The Airs Of May, Shine On Our Roofs And Chase The Wintry Gloom- And Lo! Our Borders Glow With Sudden Bloom.

Ah! Never Shall The Land Forget How Gushed The Life-blood Of Her Brave -