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MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS
Hope
| 'Tis borne on the zephyr at eventide's hour; |
| It falls on the heart like the dew on the flower, — |
| An infinite essence from tropic to pole, |
| The promise, the home, and the heaven of Soul. |
| Hope happifies life, at the altar or bower, |
| And loosens the fetters of pride and of power; |
| It comes through our tears, as the soft summer rain, |
| To beautify, bless, and make joyful again, |
| The harp of the minstrel, the treasure of time; |
| A rainbow of rapture, o'erarching, divine; |
| The God-given mandate that speaks from above, — |
| No place for earth's idols, but hope thou, and love. |
Rondelet
| “The flowers of June |
| The gates of memory unbar: |
| The flowers of June |
| Such old-time harmonies retune, |
| I fain would keep the gates ajar, — |
| So full of sweet enchantment are |
| The flowers of June.” |
James T. White.
