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The Spike or Victoria College Review June 1914


page 24


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
What if death were taking
Our sweet Eleanore!