But I hear them in my sleep,

And I pity. Very steep

The road to Fame.

[Pg 13]

[Pg 13]

 The Return of the Sun

Winter is passing. The inconstant sun—

Neglectful lover, therefore doubly dear—

Kisses the stern, white faces of the hills,

Melting their hearts to tenderness again;

Kisses the earth, still shiv'ring 'neath its shroud,

And whispers it of blossoms to be born.

Kisses the boughs and lures the fresh young leaves,

Spring's verdant heralds, from their hiding place;

Kisses the trees and tells them of bright birds

Seeking new homes for merry families.

Winter is passing. The inconstant sun—

Neglectful lover, therefore doubly dear—

Enters the hearts of long despondent men,

Bidding them smile and be consoled again;

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