For Memorizing There is ever a song somewhere, my dear, Be the skies above or dark or fair, There is ever a song that our hearts may hear There is ever a song somewhere, my dear— There is ever a song somewhere! -James Whitcomb Riley. THE AMERICAN FLAG. When Freedom, from her mountain height, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there. She mingled with its gorgeous dyes Majestic monarch of the cloud! To hear the tempest trumpings loud 1. For Memorizing A SONG. There is ever a song somewhere, my dear; There is ever a something sings always: There's the song of the lark when the skies are clear, And the song of the thrush when the skies are gray. The sunshine showers across the grain, And the bluebird trills in the orchard tree; And in and out, when the eaves drip rain, The swallows are twittering ceaselessly. There is ever a song somewhere, my dear, Be the skies above or dark or fair, There is ever a song that our hearts may hearThere is a song somewhere, my dear— There is ever a song somewhere! There is ever a song somewhere, my dear, In the midnight black, or the mid-day blue: The robin pipes when the sun is here, And the cricket chirrups the whole night through. The buds may blow, and the fruit may grow, And the autumn leaves drop crisp and sear; But whether the sun, or the rain, or the snow, There is ever a song somewhere, my dear. Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. Waking, or asleep, Thou of death must deem Things more true and deep Than we mortals dream, Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? We look before and after, And pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought, Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride and fear, If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. For Memorizing Better than all measures Of delightful sound, That in books are found. Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now. -Percy Bysshe Shelley. SAIL ON, O SHIP OF STATE! Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! We know what Master laid thy keel, For Memorizing Fear not each sudden sound and shock, In spite of rock and tempest's roar, Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Are all with thee- are all with thee! -Longfellow. WHAT CONSTITUTES A STATE? What constitutes a state? Not high-raised battlement or labored mound, Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned; Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride; Not starred and spangled courts, Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride. No:- men, high-minded men, With powers as far above dull brutes endued In forest, brake, or den, As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude,— |