The Stormy March Has Come At Last,

The Breath Of Springtime At This Twilight Hour Comes Through The Gathering Glooms, And Bears The Stolen Sweets Of Many A Flower Into My Silent Rooms.

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.

The February Sunshine Steeps Your Boughs And Tints The Buds And Swells The Leaves Within.

Beautiful Isles! Beneath The Sunset Skies Tall, Silver-shafted Palm-trees Rise, Between Full Orange-trees That Shade The Living Colonade.

Truth Gets Well If She Is Run Over By A Locomotive, While Error Dies Of Lockjaw If She Scratches Her Finger.