Poetry Is The Eloquence Of Verse.

Can Anything Be Imagined More Abhorrent To Every Sentiment Of Generosity And Justice, Than The Law Which Arms The Rich With The Legal Right To Fix, By Assize, The Wages Of The Poor? If This Is Not Slavery, We Have Forgotten Its Definition. Strike The Right Of Associating For The Sale Of Labor From The Privileges Of A Freeman, And You May As Well Bind Him To A Master, Or Ascribe Him To The Soil.

The Moon Is At Her Full, And Riding High, Floods The Calm Fields With Light. The Airs That Hover In The Summer Sky Are All Asleep To-night.

Father, Thy Hand Hath Reared These Venerable Columns, Thou Didst Weave This Verdant Roof. Thou Didst Look Down Upon The Naked Earth, And, Forthwith, Rose All These Fair Ranks Of Trees. They, In Thy Sun, Budded, And Shook Their Green Leaves In Thy Breeze, And Shot Towards Heaven.

Winning Isn't Everything, But It Beats Anything In Second Place.

The Windflower And The Violet, They Perished Long Ago, And The Brier-rose And The Orchis Died Amid The Summer Glow; But On The Hills The Golden-rod, And The Aster In The Wood, And The Yellow Sunflower By The Brook, In Autumn Beauty Stood, Till Fell The First From The Clear Cold Heaven, As Falls The Plague On Men, And The Brightness Of Their Smile Was Gone, From Upland Glade And Glen.