St Nicholas [serial] . A NOVEMBER HEADING. BY EDGAR MARBURG, JR., AGE 13. THE PRIDE OF THE FOREST BY MARY S. CURRY (AGE 15) The ancient pride of the forest —there it lies ; Its crest that once swayed to and fro aboveIts comrades while the winds low-murmured sighs Told through its branches tales of war and love. Learned from the savage bear or cooing dove,That crest, now fallen, crumbles slow away, Changing to dust, from which another groveAlready shoots, and, growing day by day,Shall rise, majestic towering, fall, and then decay. 90 ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE [Nov., WHY I LIKE SUMMER BETTER THAN AUTU
St Nicholas [serial] . A NOVEMBER HEADING. BY EDGAR MARBURG, JR., AGE 13. THE PRIDE OF THE FOREST BY MARY S. CURRY (AGE 15) The ancient pride of the forest —there it lies ; Its crest that once swayed to and fro aboveIts comrades while the winds low-murmured sighs Told through its branches tales of war and love. Learned from the savage bear or cooing dove,That crest, now fallen, crumbles slow away, Changing to dust, from which another groveAlready shoots, and, growing day by day,Shall rise, majestic towering, fall, and then decay. 90 ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE [Nov., WHY I LIKE SUMMER BETTER THAN AUTUMN BY ETHEL KNOWLS&N CASTER (AGE l6)A poet has written : What is so rare as a day in June ?Then, if ever, come perfect days. It is true. There is nothing to be compared with thefirst days of early summer. At that time perfect har-mony exists between Nature and the souls of men. It is. AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL. BY THERESA ,AGE 16. (GOLD BADGE.) the same everywhere whether it be in city or country, vil-lage or hamlet. Earth has awakened from the long wintersleep and everybody rejoices in the happy months be-fore them. In the cities, even in the poorest homes,a window-box, or maybe a single plant, shows thateven in the work and toil of a great city the minds andhearts of those who dwell therein, though they cannot es-cape to the free haunts of Nature, still love and wish forsomething that may teach them of the joys of living. But in autumn there is something undeniably sad. Theknowledge that this golden radiance will soon be lost in thedarkness of winter ; that the leaves, on the trees now vyingwith each other in brilliancy of hue, will soon be lyingwhere small rivalries are forgotten ; that the breeze whichtosses the corn and blows about the hair of the childrenwill soon be gone and in its stead a cold wind that moans asit goes and tosses the brown leaves high in
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookidstnicholasserial371dodg
