Two Voices are there; one is of the sea, One of the mountains; each a mighty Voice.

He sang of love, with quiet blending, Slow to begin, and never ending; Of serious faith, and inward glee; That was the song,- the song for me!

Love had he found in huts where poor men lie; His daily teachers had been woods and rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the l…

We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.

Along the western slopes of the Oregon Coastal Range . . . come look: the hysterical crashing of tributaries as they merge into the Wakonda Auga River . . .

With whisper of her mellowing grain, With treble of brook and bud and tree, Earth joys for ever to sustain The bass eternal of the sea.

We saw a raven very high above us. It called out, and the dome of the sky seemed to echo the sound. It called again and again as it flew onwards, and the mount…