I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows, I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses, I linger by my shingly bars, I loiter round my cresses; And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river; For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever.
"The Art of Public Speaking"
Dale Carnagey (AKA Dale Carnegie) and J. Berg Esenwein
They were conscious of the waving grains and of the perfume of the buckwheat drifting like snow in the fields beyond the wheat; conscious of the meadow-lark and the wood-robin's note; of the whirr of a locust; and the thud of a frog in the cool green of a pool deep with brown shadows; conscious of the circling of mated butterflies in the simmering gold air; of the wild roses lifting fair pink petals from the brambly banks beside the road; conscious of the whispering pine needles in a wood they passed; the fluttering chatter of leaves and silver flash of the lining of poplar leaves, where tall trees stood like sentinels, apart and sad; conscious of a little brook that tinkled under a log bridge they crossed, then hurried on its way unmindful of their happy crossing; conscious of the dusty daisy beside the road, closing with a bumbling bee who wanted honey below the market price; conscious of all these things; but most conscious of each other, close, side by side.
"Marcia Schuyler"
Grace Livingston Hill Lutz
That the Wilderness was a brambly place could not be denied.
"A Tale of the Summer Holidays"
G. Mockler
