And the twilight dews of even
Just as sweet a fragrance shed,
And the pale night orbs of heaven
Beam the same, though years have fled—
Years that brought so many changes,
Years that stole my flowers away;
Now in fancy only linger
Dreams that once were bright as day.
Visions of the cot and wildwood
Flit before me evermore,
But the friends that blest my childhood
Meet me at the stream no more.
Thus it is that dreams will haunt us—
Forms and scenes we loved so well;
Smiling faces, tones and voices,
Time nor change can e’er dispel.
THE BATTLE OF CUT KNIFE HILL.
O’er the vast rolling prairie,
And afar in the “Great Lone Land,”
Otter’s column’s advancing
Amid dangers on every hand.
Yet forward, steadily forward,
A day and a long night they go,
And just at the morn’s pale dawning
Sweep down on the savage foe.
And under the gallant Otter
Swiftly they form up and well,
Dash forward over the streamlet
Into coulee, ravine and dell.
Moving into the fighting line
With a rush the fierce gatling goes;
Forward, into the hot centre,
Dealing death on the dusky foes.
And the intrepid Shortt moves up,
Placing his guns on either side,
To sweep coulee and dark ravine,
And the Cut Knife Hill far and wide.
With “B” Battery in support
Of Rutherford’s raging guns,
Shaking the dark, trembling stream
That by the base of Cut Knife runs.
On either flank of the batteries
The Mounted Police were placed,
And steadily they extended,
And proudly the dark foe faced.
To the right and rear were the Guards,
And the proud Infantry School corps,
Cool and steady as on parade,
Under Gray and the stern Wadmore.
To the left, on a ledge of the hill,
Extending near unto the stream,
Was the ever-gallant Queen’s Own
With but an interval between
The stealthy approach of the foe.
Protecting the ford and right rear
Was the good Battleford Rifles—
Brave men, deterred not by fear.
Opening along the whole line,
The roaring guns shake the hill,
And the infantry’s fire crashes,
And all hearts heroically thrill.
Thus cool, collected, and steady,
Dealing out grim death on the foe,
By coulee and hill and ravine,
And the trembling stream below.