Green Mountain Freeman

Poetry.
To Give is to Live.
Forever the flower pouring his gold
Upon our world she that begets ardor with
His warmth he shed under serene summits cold.
And with a howl of want and sorrow
The while his largess of precious light
Is to bury himself in eternal night,
To give
Is to live.
The flower shines not for itself at all
It only is the joy it feels it gives
Of beauty and balm prodigal.
And it lives in the life it sweetly sings,
Each note for the rose but glory or doom-
To expand or- there, Lo where I bloom
In day
Is to
The sea's lead silvery rain to the land,
The land's high sapphire returns to the ocean,
The beautiful blood to the brain of command
The brain to the heart. Its lightning motion
And ever and ever we yield our breath,
Till the river is dry out images death.
To live
Is to give
It is dead, who a hand is not opened wide
To help the need of a human brother
He doubts the life of busy intrigue,
Whoever his foe a plate nail
A bit a human and might as he is,
Wants in myths
To ·ler.v
htd.
Throw wealth of a dperaing ae
Any our ships sail b ae w is ms of treasure.
Carua oreemfulallasdanpbrar.
Andevcaingaaee alisip withresnare
Fiingheaith to bssuoshin wid acdrain.
Adroses shail come to sio cb-ekagi.
14 6174
Ia to 1ve
Whatieosr iifeIai wea th aoderrength
If we, for she Master's saae, wiil luse it,
Weshalldolit a bandred faid a jeegin.
Whlfeachallfotever ianewho re
Adsatlanathatave h ranienanea
Atthe eoslof rghi. thnir wesnaiiiocrease
1ya
A
Miscellany.