The Spike or Victoria College Review June 1914
Eleanore
Eleanore.
Dusky waves are creeping
With a sound of weeping
By the shore,
Tired winds are keeping
Watch by Eleanore.
Flowers bow in sorrow,
Not a rose will borrow
One flush more,
Fearing lest no morrow
Dawn for Eleanore.
Breezes like a feather
Stroke the purple heather
By her door,
Silently the weather
Stays for Eleanore.
And our hearts cease breaking
Lest their grief be waking
Eleanore;
What if death were taking
Our sweet Eleanore!
—M.E.H