The rustle of the leaves in summer's hush When wandering breezes touch them, and the sigh That filters through the forest, or the gush That swells and sinks amid the branches high,-- 'Tis all the music of the wind, and… — John Gardiner Calkins Brainard Copy Share Image
God is its author, and not man; he laid The key-note of all harmonies; he planned All perfect combinations, and he made Us so that we could hear and understand. — John Gardiner Calkins Brainard Copy Share Image
I saw two clouds at morning Tinged by the rising sun, And in the dawn they floated on And mingled into one. — John Gardiner Calkins Brainard Copy Share Image
At the piping of all hands,When the judgment-signal's spread-When the islands and the landsAnd the seas give up their dead,And the South and North shall come;When the sinner is dismayed,And the just man is afraid,Then Heaven be thy aid,Poor Tom. — John Gardiner Calkins Brainard Copy Share
The rustle of the leaves in summer's hush When wandering breezes touch them, and the sigh That filters through the forest, or the gush… — John Gardiner Calkins Brainard Copy Share Image
Far beneath the tainted foamThat frets above our peaceful home,We dream in joy and wake in loveNor know the rage that yells above. — John Gardiner Calkins Brainard Copy Share Image
God is its author, and not man; he laid The key-note of all harmonies; he planned All perfect combinations, and he made Us so… — John Gardiner Calkins Brainard Copy Share Image
