POETRY.

From HE Dartmouth Gazette.
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From HE Dartmouth Gazette.


THE ISLE OF THE DEAD.
10 passing Lake Champlain, they Informed us Of


small green island, where the brave mea er,
buried, who fell on The nth Sept 1914.
AROUND the fair isle, the wild birds sing.
And plunge in the lake the sparkling wing.
Above the fair ISLE the wild flowers bloom,
To deck the sod Of the warriour's tomb.
Cold and dampis the warrours' sleep,
And above their grave the wild flowers weep.
Aswe passed that Isle, The wind blew fair,
No mourner nor hearse. shrond was there.
But we viewed The srds on the dead, that lay.
And we thought of the crimson battle fray.
Cold and damp is the warriours grave,
And heavy's the turf, that hides the brave.
When the light Of their souls grew dim death,
no mother watched o'er their waning breath
Like the stars on summer night, they fell,
And glory proclaimed their parting knell
Gold and damp is the warriours' bed,
But Glory is lowering around the dead
TO soothe their slumbers the wild birds sing.
10 honour their Sods, the fair flowers spring,
Ind many day and many year
shall scatter with wreaths their lonely bier.
Gold and damp is the warriours tomb,
But Glory aud Honour shall always bloom.
Ii darkness and death, the warriours lie,
But Glory and Honour shall never die A. X.