The Close of Vacation The last happy day was over, The evening had just begun, The hills of tranquil beauty Bade slowly adieu to the sun. My soul was filled with sorrow, As I though of the coming day, For tomorrow our camp would be silent, And we would be on our way. But my spirits were soon enlivened, As from my shoulder I took The source of my summer's joy, The spoils of the mountain brook. My friends came crowding around me, And one by one they spread out, The result of an arduous day's sporting, A catch of beautiful trout. That night as I sat by the camp fire Thinking of the days gone by, I remember how I loved that old camp ground, And how I hated to bid it good-bye. I think I shall always remember, How on that beautiful night Alone I had been left to ponder And dream by the fading light. As minutes changed slowly to hours, The darkness came crowding in folds, The circle of light slowly faded, And I lay beside a heap of red coals. From afar off down the canyon I could hear the hoot of an owl, While occasionally from 'way o 'er the hilltops. Resounded a coyote's dismal howl. O 'erhead and off in the darkness The night hawk continued to soar, And his strange sharp cries seemed to mingle. With the river's constant roar. These sounds were the last I remember Until I awoke once more- 'Twas cold, grey dawn of morning, And my summer vacation was o'er. -EZRA JONES, '12.