The gull screams wildly o'er the waves,
Defiant in its stormy glee;
It screams, perchance, o'er wat'ry graves
And recks not, heeds not, nor do we.

But comes a time, when waves and wind,
In restful quietude remain,
A change then comes upon the mind,
And stormy passion's recent reign.

The gull sails softly thro' the air,
For all is calm and still below;
Peace, blessed peace is ev'rywhere,
And all regret the recent throe.

The man, remorseful, thinks of how
Defiant thoughts reign'd wild and high,
The waves are mourning, sobbing now,
In peace, but yet in agony.

* * * * *

LOUIS RIEL.

Misguided man, thy turbid life
This day in shameful death shall close,
And thou shalt ne'er behold the sun,
That in thy sight, this morn, arose.

The moon, which yestere'en so clear,