AR ee 

THE INDIAN SUMMER. Q77 
Sorrow’s rugged stem, like thine, 
Bears a flower thus purely bright; 
Thus, when sunny hours decline, 
Friendship sheds her cheering light. 
Religion, too, that heavenly flower, 
That joy of never-fading worth, 
Waits, like thee, the darkest hour, 
Then puts all her glories forth. 
Then thy beauties are surpassed, 
Splendid flower, that bloom’st to die; 
For Friendship and Religion last 
When the morning beams on high. 
The Iadian Summer, 
James Dizon. 
Wy BSS the Summer breezes have died away, 
And the Autumn winds are drear, 
And the forests have changed their green array, 
For the hues of the dying year ; 
There comes a season, brief and bright, 
When the zephyrs breathe with a gentle swell, 
And the sunshine plays with a softer light, 
Like the Summer’s last farewell. 




