IN HEMORIAM. Ill 



An Angler's Rest. 



IN MEMORIAM LORENZO PROUTY. 



" After Life's fitful fever he sleeps well." 



Sweet spring has come to the beck-side, 



And to the mountain mere ; 

 Scattered her favors far and wide, 



Attuned her voices clear; 

 But a void in all there seems : 



As we wander, rod in hand. 

 We miss the ever-kindly gleams 



Of his eye and grasp of hand. 



A " quiet eye " and true he bore, — 



Fair mirror of his heart ; 

 He loved the dappled meadows more 



By far, than busy mart ; 

 And mountain pine and hemlock seem 



To sigh, in sad refrain. 

 As they shade the babbling brooklet's gleam, 



" He ne'er will come again ! " 



The May-fly (o'er the silent " deep," 



Whose semblance oft he cast) 

 Now tempts the lusty trout to leap 



Till its brief life is past ; 



