Nothing was ever truer...than the statement, "The poor you have always with you." - Joel Benton

His cherished woods are mute. The stream glides down </br> The hill as when I knew it years ago; </br> The dark, pine arbor with its priestly gown </br> Stands hushed, as if our grief it still would show.

As we hold in derision now the discovery of the philosopher's stone and perpetual motion, so future generations will look upon this fetich of our time, and not without unspeakable amazement.

A ball of fire shoots through the tamarack </br> In scarlet splendor, on voluptuous wings; </br> Delirious joy the pyrotechnist brings, </br> Who marks for us high summer's almanac. </br> How instantly the red-coat hurtles back!