To Win The Secret Of A Weed's

But Better Far It Is To Speak One Simple Word, Which Now And Then Shall Waken Their Free Nature In The Weak And Friendless Sons Of Men.

Death Is Delightful. Death Is Dawn, The Waking From A Weary Night Of Fevers Unto Truth And Light.

Through Aisles Of Long-drawn Centuries My Spirit Walks In Thought.

Slow Are The Steps Of Freedom, But Her Feet Turn Never Backward.

To Win The Secret Of A Weed's Plain Heart.