FROM a tiny acorn

AY, a forest-giant grows;

From a little streamlet

A mighty river flows.

Many fleeting seconds

Go to make the day;

Days glide into years, and

Ages pass away.

Many tiny blossoms

Sprinkled o'er the lea,

Make it one vast garden,

Beautiful to see.

Many little songsters,

Warbling 'mid the trees,

Send a choral concert

Floating on the breeze.

Many grains of knowledge,

Added day by day,

Lay a store of wisdom

In your brains away.

Every time you conquer

Passion in the strife,

You are one day nearer

To a noble life.

Who will stand the highest

In the Judgment day?—

He whose valor conquered

In the bloody fray.

'Round who brow is circled

Garlands fair of fame?—

Nay! But he of whom the world

Knows not of the name;

Who when passions battled,

Conquered in that fight—

He it is whose name will show

The highest and most bright.




Kate Clyde.