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The cloudy pillars roll on high,
As if they longed to say, “I'm stronger than the flood and fire!
No mortals can me stay!"
With inky blackness and rumbling sound,
The storm king wends his way, Like troops engaged in deadly strife,
To see who'll win the day.
It sweeps the ground, then soars on high,
And bears its reapings through the air; While all along the path it chose,
Ascends the wail of sore despair!
With furious speed it rolls along;
Clouds dashing, then clashing, Downward, then upward, Collecting, then scattering
Its wrecks through the air.
The groans of the strong, and shrieks of the Blackness, despair, desolation and death, Are the scenes that are witnessed When earth has been visited by the
n view of all the suffering and war that
American fathers, mothers, sons and
daughters have been called upon to endure, allow me to give you a word of advice, knowing that our sons will soon be called upon to occupy seats in our executive, legislative and judicial departments; knowing the time is fast approaching when they will be called upon to make the laws that govern this great and powerful nation; we ought to teach them to live upright and honorable lives; teach them that wisdom is better than rubies, and a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches. If they are fortunate enough to accumulate any wealth,