The Evening Wind

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The eastern mail comes lumbering in,
With outmost waves of Europe's din;
The western sighs adown the slope,
Or 'mid the rustling leaves doth grope,
Laden with news from Californ',
Whatever transpired hath since morn,
How wags the world by brier and brake,
From hence to Athabasca lake.[1]

  1. [Week, p. 180; Riv. 224.]