The Spike: or, Victoria College Review, October 1908
Lucy, fond votaress of clairvoyance,
Thou shalt not know, in crystal though thou gaze,
What end the gods ordain of all my days
And thine, sweet witch; not all thy necromance
Can tell our destinies; whate'er bechance
'Twere best to bear; whether th' Almighty weights
Thee out more years, or this thy last, naught stays
The wave-like motion of the years' advance.
Wisdom accepts, be wise; thy longing hope
Trim to the straiter limits of thy sphere
Of homely duty, for what must be, must;
E'en now, while thou wouldst read my horoscope,
The jealous hour is sped; to-day is here,
Seize it and to the morrow little trust.