When April Steps Aside For May, Like

June Falls Asleep Upon Her Bier Of Flowers; In Vain Are Dewdrops Sprinkled O'er Her, In Vain Would Fond Winds Fan Her Back To Life, Her Hours Are Numbered On The Floral Dial.

What Is The Meaning Of 'gossip?' Doesn't It Originate With Sympathy, An Interest In One's Neighbor, Degenerating Into Idle Curiosity And Love Of Tattling? Which Is Worse, This Habit, Or Keeping One's Self So Absorbed Intellectually As To Forget The Sufferings And Cares Of Others, To Lose Sympathy Through Having Too Much To Think About?

Thou Hastenest Down Between The Hills To Meet Me At The Road, The Secret Scarcely Lisping Of Thy Beautiful Abode Among The Pines And Mosses Of Yonder Shadowy Height, Where Thou Dost Sparkle Into Song, And Fill The Woods With Light.

If The World 's A Vale Of Tears, Smile, Till Rainbows Span It!

He Who Plants A Tree, Plants A Hope.