THE summer is ended, vacation is o'er, 

And back to his books comes the schoolboy once more;

With a sigh of regret in his lingering good-by 

To the hills and the meadows and fair summer sky, 

To the sweet, idle hours vacation has brought, 

And the pleasures Dame Nature his young heart has taught,

To all and to everything joyous and gay, 

Which made his vacation so happy each day.

But earth cannot always lie idly at rest

With the sunbeams and shadows at play on her breast.

There is work to be done, for the harvest is near, 

And the white-haired old winter-king soon will behere.

The grasses and flowers will turn them to seed, 

Nature's wisest provision for next summer's need; 

Thro' day and thro' night she will work with a will, 

This busy Dame Nature, who never is still.

So cease your regrets for the summer now past, 

And turn to your lessons and studies at last; 

Remember, my boy, there's a ladder to climb, 

Which leads up to fame and true wisdom in time; 

Turn your back to the tempter, and fasten your looks 

Upon pencil and slate and your long-hidden books; 

And, for comfort, remember that once in each year 

There'll be time for the shout of "Vacation is here!" 

 Christian Weekly.