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1 " simple robes Rich tints of beauty rare. Soon a host of lovely flowers From vales and woodland burst; But in all that fair procession The crocuses were first. First to weave for Earth a chaplet To crown her dear old head; And to beautify the pathway Where winter still did tread. And their loved and white haired mother Smiled sweetly 'neath the touch, When she knew her faithful children Were loving her "
― Frances Ellen Watkins Harper ,
2 " To brighten history's page. Where labor faints and bows her head, And want consorts with crime; Or men grown faithless sadly say That evil is the time. There is the field, the vantage ground For "
3 " In the new era of your life,Bring love for hate, peace for strife "