Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from The Sweet Briar Magazine, Vol. 14: November, 1922
The pine trees were my orchestra divine The streamlets tuned their forks for me, The. Birds were erstwhile choristers of mine, The hills my never ending symphony. The organ voice of God was in the seas, And nocturnes murmured in the summer rain My song-companions once, were all of these, And now they call on me to Sing again.
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