The evening times., 1902-05-17
ST. PIERRE.
By FREDERICK COLLINS.

a smiling city by the tropic sea,
BeyoRd-the noble height of Mont PeIee;
4 charming sight. as joyous and serene
As e'er beneath the morning sky was
seen;
Or in the streets, or by the busy shore
The scene with human life is running o. 'er
The hauHts Of commerce, or abodes Of
ease.
Each, in their kind. the heart Of man do
please,
And. taken all in ali. few spots more fair
Than the good, thriving town OF St. Pierre
Descend. with Us, upon the spirits wing.
And view this life, this throbbing, anxious
thing,
That aninatez both rich and poor alike.
At which the dart of Death must one day
strike
(That dart Of Death that hovers over all.
And upon each and every one must fal).
This life that here, in thirty thousand
souls,
It's tide in many passion fondly rolls.
And pride, and wealth and poverty arc
And hope. and love, and hate, and grief,
and fear.
Oh! see how eager in pursuit of gain
The myFiads rush-pursuit, alasl how
vain,
ToCF creatures doomed Know tncy that
but 2 breath
Has but to breathe on them the spell og
death
That spell that ends forever all this strife,
Before which melt the puny toys Of life,
Before which king and beggar tumble
down.
Which lays the shovel equal with the
crown
Pat why this somber strain2 More fit
ting tbs
To speak of life, and joy. and happiness.
Here where the sea beats on the silver
sand
And Natures aspect lovely is. and grand.
Where Mont PeIec its crest doth raise on
high.
As though in invocation to the sky;
But yet, behold. around the mountains s
head
A smoky canopy Is strangely spread.
And. woefuI tidings. down the further
side,
molten, devastating stream did ride.
Overwhelming in its path two score, 'tis
said
What then?-the living live, the dead
are dead.
And 50. upon this brilliant morning scene,
The usual course of life around is seen:
What many an unwrit story here is told
LaSage's hating devil might unfold;
Suffice to say that It's a citys life,
With all its selfish turmoil, greed, and
strife.
It's search for pleasure, and its need Of
pain,
lis share of virtue and its evil stain;
Yet. what Of good and honesty there is,
May't plead against the frightfuI Nemesis.
That now, unspeakabIe, impends so near
OH think Of it, upon morn so clearl-
Is there no pity in the azure SKYE
Or why this dreadful wrath of the Most
High?
child
The gently ripping sea, the air so mild;
The thousand tints Of earth and heaven
glow.
And stIn no warning of the direfuI blow
And now it falls cen as the crack of
shroudfng the fair scene round in ebon
1t seems as though the earth had split in
To beleh forth ashes, stones. and fiery
rair,
All. all is fre-above, below, around
With mighty heavings in the air and
ground
Loud thunders drown The dying human
shrieks,
And lightnings pierce the gloom in luTid
Streaks,
The ocean rises and engulfs the ships,
The water dire as the volcanoes lips
What tongue can tell the horror OF it ALI
II may not be conceived, yet must appau;
A Holocaust where thirty thousand die,
A heap of dust where thirty thousand lie
In a few moments has this change been
wrought
to human thought
Fen when one death auzzles the human
will,
Can with dread wonder our affections fill,
AS strange today as when the mystic call
First upon human ear did ever fall,
What may we think of this fell swoop of
death,
Where thirty thousand perish in breath.