YOURS IS THE light that breaks forth from the dark, and the good that sprouts from the cleft heart of strife. Yours is the house that opens upon the world, and the love that calls to the battlefield. Yours is the gift that still is a gain when everything is a loss, and the life that flows through the caverns of death. Yours is the heaven that lies in the common dust, and you are there for me, you are there for all.
THE DARKLY veiled June has come once again redolent of the rain-soaked earth; my heart that had grown weary and old answers to the call of the marching clouds, overcome with the sudden rush of life's turbulence. Shadows sweep over the young grass on the vast lonely meadows; and my blood surges up with the cry: It has come, has come to my eyes, to my breast, to my voice that sings in gladness.