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The Spike or Victoria College Review October 1929

Sonnet

Sonnet

Mists filled the vale, came wreathing up and round
The city spires, and gathered thick where weaves
The brook its lacy net, and Autumn's sheaves,
Now harvested, late stood securely bound.
The stream lay dead and still, as though it found
A burden in its veil of scattered leaves,
Or as 'twere loath (like one whom parting grieves)
To bear away the wealth which Summer crowned.
Earth drooped; nought save the futile water-fly,
Which idly spins its way among the reeds.
Seemed not to know that Winter's icy steeds,
New-yoked, sped south from out the Arctic sky,
And 'neath their breadth the mellow year must needs,
And all the warmth it gave, now coldly die.

A.B.C.