The victory of endurance born.

When April winds Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up, Opened in airs of June her multitude Of golden chalices t…

Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again; The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers.

Heed not the night; a summer lodge amid the wild is mine - 'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'tis mantled by the vine.

'Pain is temporary, glory...lasts forever!'

The will to conquer is the first condition of victory.

Who would attain to summits still and fair, Must nerve himself through valleys of despair.