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Show Holly-hocks, bhtc-bclls, and ivy. around the old home may he seen; The glistening river, winds its way, reeds, and cat-tails, on its bank, Swampv-sods, moss-decked, from anchor for old willows grow-ing grow-ing rank. All these scenes defy description, one's mere words can not convey The harmony and pulsing-life, these artists here display. So now I lay my pen aside, while in ecstasy I scan God's world, portrayed on canvas, by the skillful hand of man. Long may these high tributes to nature, hang high in my native tenen, Proclaiming 'culture, skill and progress, from the nations win renown; May the palace like a jewel at our own dear mountain's base Shine in honor, give its portion, to exalt the human race. THE PALACE AND THE JEWELS By Myrtle H. Conover j ILos Angeles, California am dreaming of my homeland, as the hours pass me by, Of Art City, lovely Springville, there beneath the Utah sky. In a palace in that city, hang most wondcrous gems of art i Robberies from the face of nature, and from out her throbbing heart Nature, protests not the robbery, greatest compliment she sees In man's copy of the grand iter of her ocean's, lands, and tfces. As I cross the palace portals, a radiance o'er me falls Shining from the dome above nic, lights the gems upon the walls: j Here I see the snow-flakes falling softly on a hiiside tovm, There the Autumn's gold and scarlet banks the tree-trunks huge j and brown. Over there in dark-blue heaven, shines the moon upon the snow; Lamp-light from a cottage ivindow, seems to send a fitful glow O'r a path deep-walled and glittering, marked with prints of children's feet. A sleigh with bells and prancing horses, make this picture most complete. Behold a face, with eyes that follow, searching, questioning, and clear, Can it be that from her lips a voice of melody I hear? The fabric of her silken-gown, so gossamer, in tinted sheen Lighllv veils her lovely shoulders, as she gazes so serene. I pass-to view a gorgeous sun-set, foamy clouds' of pastel hues Shade to flame, to red and yellow. zMte and gold, amid the blues, And how the grand old oceans' billows, break upon a rocky shore; Blinding sprav, flung high in splendor, seems to sound an angry roar; A ji'flt'C creeps around a boulder, barnacled, and seaweed hung; The restless 'wave winds out to gather debris on its hungry tongue. A vase of rose buds, petals opening, blooming nmv before my gace, The vase transparent, glints of sunbeams, family blue as summer j ha:e j A velvet drape, shades blue and purple, soft in lights and shadows there; There's nothing but Gods orei s-ect flowers, that could make a gem more fair. Here is a home-stead by a river, cattle graze in pastures green |