May you always have work for your hands to do,
May your pockets hold always a coin or two,
May the sun shine bright on your windowpane
May the rainbow be certain to follow each rain.
May the hand of a friend always be near you,
And May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.
The earth is not a mere fragment of dead history, a stratum upon stratum like the leaves of a book, to be studied by biologists and antiquarians chiefly, but living poetry like the leaves of a tree, which precede flowers and fruit — not a fossil earth but a living earth.