One Who Claims That He Knows About It
Tells Me The Earth Is A Vale Of Sin;
But I And The Bees And The Birds, We Doubt It,
And Think It A World Worth Living In.
Someone says that hearts are fickle,
That love is sorrow, that life is care;
And the reaper Death, with its shining sickle,
Gathers whatever is bright and fair.
I told the thrush, and we laughed together,
Laughed till the woods were all a-ring ;
And he said to me as he plumed each feather,
"Well, people must croak, if they cannot sing."
Up he flew, but his song, remaining,
Rang like a bell in my heart all day,
And silenced the voices of weak complaining,
That pipe like insects along the way.
O world of light, O world of beauty!
Where are there pleasures so sweet as thine?
Yes, life is love, and love is duty;
And what heart sorrows? 0 no, not mine!
A NOBLE LIFE
In the northern part of Greene county, near the Little Miami
river, lies Yellow Springs. As we neared the quiet town with its
pleasant avenues of trees that sheltered peaceful, well-kept
homes we thought of the noble spirit of him who toiled so
arduously here that life might be richer and happier for all
humanity. Here for five years dwelt one of America's most
illustrious sons, who from a humble beginning of pitiful
struggle and nearly wageless toil evolved such a noble life. We
are told that he earned his first school books by braiding
straw.
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