POETRY.
TWO EPITAPHS.
COMPENSATION.
Farm% should I live your epitaph to write, I would that loving memory should recite This compensation for your saddened days : That, passing down the darkening path, the rays Of early years alone giving you light, And grief on grief having left you hopeless quite, Your vision was so ever backward cast Where, rich in golden memories, gleamed the past, That, climbing the last slopes with labouring breath, Daring no forward glance, you saw not Death Draw near, knew no forebodings or alarms, But turned to find you in Ms friendly arms.
A WANDERER.
" To rolling stones the moss shall come," Wiseacres warned me, " never ! "
But I would laugh " No clogging scum Mars the running river! "
Good headstone say (now I am dumb) We'll gather moss for ever. HABBERTON LIILRAM.
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