"Mark how the lustrous, Autumn glow
Illumes the reddening leaves; The genial harvest-tide is past,
And gathered in, the sheaves.
"Now there—yes! through the waning light
I see the little stile;— A few steps more—how dark it grows!
Home in Prince Edward Isle."
But as, o'er the calm of evening
Breathed forth the vesper hymn, The visions of fancy faded,
The clear, blue eyes waxed dim.
The hectic flush evanished
Before cold Pallor's hand; Ended the warfare, hushed the voice—
Hushed in the silent land.
And the soul of the fair young dreamer
Went up with music's swell; Whilst Victory's pæans grandly soared
High o'er earth's parting knell.
And though to his home and kindred
He cometh ne'er again, The memory of his bright young life
The years will aye retain.
And aye, as the festive season falls,
On fair St. Lawrence Bay, They mourn the student who died in Rome
On that bright Christmas Day.
THE PIONEER.
He sat 'neath the green verandah shade at cool of a sunbright day;
And many a pleasant look he cast to the children at their play.