There Is No Conflict Between The Old

Long Ago Apollo Called To Aristæus, Youngest Of The Shepherds, Saying, "i Will Make You Keeper Of My Bees." Golden Were The Hives, And Golden Was The Honey; Golden, Too, The Music, Where The Honey-makers Hummed Among The Trees.

The Woods Would Be Quiet If No Bird Sang But The One That Sang Best.

There Are Many Kinds Of Love, As Many Kinds Of Light, And Every Kind Of Love Makes A Glory In The Night. There Is Love That Stirs The Heart, And Love That Gives It Rest, But The Love That Leads Life Upward Is The Noblest And The Best.

Natural Beauty And Wonder Are Priceless Heirlooms Which God Has Bestowed Upon Our Nation. How Shall We Escape The Contempt Of The Coming Generation If We Suffer This Irreplaceable Heritage To Be Wasted?

The Best Rose-bush, After All, Is Not That Which Has The Fewest Thorns, But That Which Bears The Finest Roses.