When Time Is Spent, Eternity Begins.

I Know The Lands Are Lit, With All The Autumn Blaze Of Goldenrod.

The New Is Older Than The Old; And Newest Friend Is Oldest Friend In This: That, Waiting Him, We Longest Grieved To Miss One Thing We Sought.

Ah, March! We Know Thou Art Kind-hearted, Spite Of Ugly Looks And Threats, And, Out Of Sight, Art Nursing April's Violets!

O Winter! Frozen Pulse And Heart Of Fire, What Loss Is Theirs Who From Thy Kingdom Turn Dismayed, And Think Thy Snow A Sculptured Urn Of Death! Far Sooner In Midsummer Tire The Streams Than Under Ice. June Could Not Hire Her Roses To Forego The Strength They Learn In Sleeping On Thy Breast.

The Woman Who Creates And Sustains A Home, And Under Whose Hands Children Grow Up To Be Strong And Pure Men And Women, Is A Creator Second Only To God.