“Ah! the sun of May is sailing Through yon azure deep— Sailing with a face unclouded, But sweet Lucy, pale and shrouded, Heareth not the voice of wailing In her dreamless sleep— Though the sun of May is sailing Through yon azure deep.” Like the wondrous flower she faded, That unfolds at night— Faded, but in fields Elysian She rejoiceth angel vision, While a wreath for her is braided That will know no blight— Like the wondrous flower she faded, That unfolds at night. Oh! too oft the ghastly reaper Moweth down the young— Reaper, of the scythe unsparing, For the stricken little caring, Though they bend above the sleeper With their hearts unstrung— Oh! too oft the ghastly reaper Moweth down the young. Fare thee well! bright child of Heaven, Heavenly dreams were thine— Heavenly beauty gave forewarning Of departure in life’s morning, And to thee a soul was given Filled with thoughts divine— Fare thee well! bright child of Heaven, Heavenly peace is thine! ----- [1] The subject of the foregoing tribute was chosen May-Queen by her mates. When the day of festivity arrived she lay wrapped in her little shroud. * * * * * SONNET.—LAKE SUPERIOR. BY WM. ALEXANDER. Superior! wondrous lake! compared with thee, What tiny lakelets doth earth’s face disclose! Thy bright blue waters never know repose, But, sea-like, fret, foam, rage continually— High “pictured rocks” still battlement thy shore, Around thee woods their sombre shadows cast, Where Red-man pitched his wigwam in time past, Or danced his war-dance to the music of thy roar— Now on thy surface no canoe is seen, For ’mid the wild-flowers which anigh thee bloom, Sleeps the bold Indian, death-cold in his tomb; Remembered as the things that once had been, While wild-birds o’er him do his requiem sing, Or flying o’er thee dip their sparkling wing. * * * * * EMMA LA VELLETTE. BY P.