The Morning Pouring Everywhere, Its Golden Glory

They Are Dead; But They Live In Each Patriot's Breast, And Their Names Are Engraven On Honor's Bright Crest.

The Nearer The Dawn The Darker The Night.

Simplicity Is The Character Of The Spring Of Life, Costliness Becomes Its Autumn; But A Neatness And Purity, Like That Of The Snow-drop Or Lily Of The Valley, Is The Peculiar Fascination Of Beauty, To Which It Lends Enchantment, And Gives What Amiability Is To The Mind.

Torrent Of Light And River Of Air, Along Whose Bed The Glimmering Stars Are Seen, Like Gold And Silver Sands In Some Ravine Where Mountain Streams Have Left Their Channels Bare!

To Be Left Alone, And Face To Face With My Own Crime, Had Been Just Retribution.