This file was produced from images generously made available by The Kentuckiana Digital Library Knowest thou only the language of man? Hast never heard the plaintive flute of Pan, Or those gladsome carols that greet the light? Or the wild, strange voices of darkest night? Each of earth's creatures when at work or play, Each of nature's force in some strange way, Has a manner of attaining to God's ear, And a voice which those attuned may hear. Voices of spring are love songs of the birds, Fragrant poems of lilacs, lacking words; Summer voices are of riper, mellower strain; Autumn's, sing of harvest and life not vain; Winter tells the story of what has been, Season of reflection, of the voice…
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