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THE BIRD OF THE TOMB.

BY LEIGH CLIFFE.

(_For the Mirror_.)


In "Lyon's attempt to reach Repulse Bay," the following passage, which
suggested these verses, may be met with. "Near the large grave was a
third pile of stones, covering the body of a child. A Snow-Buntin (the
Red-Breast of the Arctic Regions) had found its way through the loose
stones which composed this little tomb, and its now forsaken, neatly
built nest, was found placed on the neck of the child."


Beneath the chilly Arctic clime,
Where Nature reigns severe, sublime,
Enthron'd upon eternal snows,
Or rides the waves on icy floes--
Where fierce tremendous tempests sweep
The bosom of the rolling deep,
And beating rain, and drifting hail
Swell the wild fury of the gale;
There is a little, humble tomb,
Not deckt with sculpture's pageant pride,
Nor labour'd verse to tell by whom