And live each day, that none can say
Justice is overthrown.

Peace, the sweet glory of the world,
Faces a duty, too;
Death is her fate, leaves she one gate
For war to enter through.

THE READY ARTISTS

The green is in the meadow and the blue is in
the sky,
And all of Nature's artists have their colors
handy by;
With a few days bright with sunshine and a
few nights free from frost
They will start to splash their colors quite
regardless of the cost.
There's an artist waiting ready at each bleak
and dismal spot
To paint the flashing tulip or the meek forget-
me-not.

May is lurking in the distance and her lap is
filled with flowers,
And the choicest of her blossoms very shortly
will be ours.
There is not a lane so dreary or a field so dark
with gloom
But that soon will be resplendent with its little