The earth was flooded in the amber haze <br />That renders so lovely our autumn days, <br />The dying leaves softly fluttered down, <br />Bright crimson and orange and golden brown, <br />And the hush of autumn, solemn and still, <br />Brooded o’er valley, plain and hill. <br /> <br />Yet still from that scene with rare beauty rife <br />And the touching sweetness of fading life, <br />From glowing foliage and sun bright ray, <br />My gaze soon mournfully turned away <br />To rest, instead, on a new made grave, <br />Enshrouding a heart true, loyal and brave. <br /> <br />At rest for aye! Cold and pulseless now <br />That high throbbing breast and calm, earnest brow; <br />Laid down forever the quick, gifted pen <br />That toiled but for God and his fellow men; <br />Silent that voice, free from hatred or ruth, <br />Yet e’er boldly raised in the cause of truth. <br /> <br />For the prize of our faith grateful he proved, <br />Breaking from ties and from scenes once loved, <br />From rank and fortune, and the lures of pride, <br />That tempt the gifted on every side, <br />To devote his genius—his pen of fire— <br />To aims more holy and themes far higher. <br /> <br />He was true to the land he had made his home, <br />And true to the grand old faith of Rome, <br />At whose feet he laid powers rarer than gold, <br />As knights laid their lances and shields of old,— <br />That Church on whose loving maternal breast <br />He peacefully sank to eternal rest. <br /> <br />Oh! no tears for him who passed away <br />Ere frame or spirit knew touch of decay, <br />Ere time had deadened one feeling warm, <br />Or his genius robbed of one single charm. <br />As he was when death struck, his image shall dwell <br />In the countless hearts that loved him so well.<br /><br />Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-memory-of-the-late-g-c-of-montreal/
