The Summer Morn Is Bright And Fresh,

Go Forth Under The Open Sky, And List To Nature's Teachings.

All Things That Are On Earth Shall Wholly Pass Away, Except The Love Of God, Which Shall Live And Last For Aye.

Look On This Beautiful World, And Read The Truth In Her Fair Page.

Do Not The Bright June Roses Blow To Meet Thy Kiss At Morning Hours?

The Country Ever Has A Lagging Spring, Waiting For May To Call Its Violets Forth, And June Its Roses-showers And Sunshine Bring, Slowly, The Deepening Verdure O'er The Earth; To Put Their Foliage Out, The Woods Are Slack, And One By One The Singing-birds Come Back. Within The City's Bounds The Time Of Flowers Comes Earlier. Let A Mild And Sunny Day, Such As Full Often, For A Few Bright Hours, Breathes Through The Sky Of March The Airs Of May, Shine On Our Roofs And Chase The Wintry Gloom- And Lo! Our Borders Glow With Sudden Bloom.