The NH Troubadour, April 1946

THE BUOYANT SPRING

by Edwin Osgood Grover

How the spirit of the buoyant spring stirs in the April air: earth and sky are palpitant with prophecy and expectation.
Now in very truth has come our resurrection season, the time of our renewing.
Our hearts beat to a quicker rhythm, our hopes build castles higher than the towers of Spain, our arms are strong like iron, our souls dare all and daring half achieve.
In our confident joy we see visions and dream dreams that lift us to the very gates of God’s own heaven.
Yet we may not abide content within our dreaming, our laggard hands must do the bidding of our eager hearts.
We are fain for the golden summer of doing, of helping, fulfilling, and in the end for joy of dreams come true.

The NH Troubadour, March 1950

by Lillian Gibbs (of Liverpool, England)

Fret not, my soul.
While stand I at my menial task,
You know you can but softly ask,
And then upon our unseen wings
We’ll fly, to where all lovely things
Are free. Early in the morning air
We’ll trudge along, without a care,
And climb the hills, a breathless task,
In glorious sunshine we will bask
Upon the summit. Oh lovely view,
My soul, then I shall be alone with you.
The birds and beasts and all we see
So rapt in quiet simplicity—
Then we can gaze upon such beauty unsurpassed.
Fret not, my soul. This utter peace
Is Nature’s way to give release.
And one day, soul, perhaps we’ll see
The Heaven New Hampshire means to me.

The NH Troubadour, March 1938

Front Cover. Giant snow sculpture of Eleazar Wheelock on the Dartmouth College Campus at the 29th Winter Carnival. Designed and supervised by Richard L. Brooks, author of “Art Below Freezing” in our January issue. The statue was thirty-six and a half feet high, not including the base, and was estimated to weigh forty tons. That upheld tankard is a large flour barrel and a man’s head could be stuck into Eleazar’s open mouth. Baker Library in background.

Photo by Fred W. Davis, Concord.

The NH Troubadour, April 1938

The Troubadour may be quite
small,
As publications go,
Yet winter, summer, spring and
fall,
The freshening rain, the silent
snow
Forever from its pages call—
The heart’s true song embracing
all
These things we love and know.

Prescott Hoard
Mt. Vernon, New York