liSi: 



:PTiAiEK 



I^OW hatK tKe s-ummer reached her golden close. 



And, lost amid her cornfields, bright of soul. 

 Scarcely perceives from her divine repose 

 How near, ho-w swift the inevitable repose ; 

 Still, still the smiles, though from her careless feet. 

 The beauty and the fruitful strength are gone. 

 And through the soft long -wandering days goes on. 

 The silent sere decadence sad and swreet. 



ARCHIBALD LAMPMAN. 



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