Poetry
... aoltr1I. THE DYING STUDENT. I Am. Ca, nln- mv sistor: I feel It nvs- Tbere '5 a terrible tirob on my actilig brow. Oh ! open tile window, let In the breeze Thult tO' iles1il has ganelboll'd o'er grassy leas- That lies chased the clouds of at smokeless sky- Thut has carried the thistle-down fair and high: Let elu breathe it a moatent before I die! Oh ! merrily, merrily, tell years back, I ...