Page:Louis Riel poem manuscript.jpg

 Robert Gordon! I beg you pardon For so having Kept you waiting After some poor verses of mine. You know, my english is not fine. I speak it; but only Very imperfectly.

The snow Which renders the ground all white, From heaven, comes here below: Its pine frozen drops invite Us all To white-keep your thoughts and our acts, So that when our bodies do fall, Our merits, before God, be facts.

How many who, with good desires, Have died and lost their souls to fires? Good desires kept unpractic’d Stand, before God, unnotic’d

O Robert, Let us be fond Of Virtue! Virtues abound In every sort of good. Let virtue be our soul’s food!

Louis “David” Riel.

October 27th 1885. Regina Jail.