There Is No Glory In Star Or

Oh, Constellations Of The Early Night That Sparkled Brighter As The Twilight Died, And Made The Darkness Glorious! I Have Seen Your Rays Grow Dim Upon The Horizon's Edge And Sink Behind The Mountains. I Have Seen The Great Orion, With His Jewelled Belt, That Large-limbed Warrior Of The Skies, Go Down Into The Gloom. Beside Him Sank A Crowd Of Shining Ones.

And Kind The Voice And Glad The Eyes That Welcome My Return At Night.

It Is Said To Be The Manner Of Hypochondriacs To Change Often Their Physician.

Still Sweet With Blossoms Is The Year's Fresh Prime.

Where Are The Flowers, The Fair Young Flowers, That Lately Sprang And Stood In Brighter Light And Softer Airs, A Beauteous Sisterhood?