POETRY.

THE SIGNPOST.

Ow my green grass plot I stand aloof

Where the four white roads have met, And I hear the tap of the coacher's hoof And the hum of the landattlette.

I point the road with a stretching arm, And the tale-of the-miles Itch

To dukeand squire and man of the farm And tattered tramp as well.

I'll show you the way to Lythamstoke, I'll show you the way to Sheen, The road that takes you to Burton's Oak And the road to Tyndal Green ; And if you are looking for Foldingfleet Or Lipoomb or Lilfordlea, You have only to stand where the four roads meet And read of the way from me.

In summer the green oak twines a crown To hang on my half-hid brow ; In winter days when the leaves are down I am tapped by a windy bough.

And if there are hours when the glad wheels drone And the racing road-cars glance, There are long, long nights when I dream alone

While the mist and the moonbeams dance.

Beneath my arms have the lovers met In the dusk of the summer green; I remember a lad from Hummerset And a maid who came from Sheen.

l'he hours went by and they took no heed Till the glowworms lit the loam, And the dark came down and they could not read The miles they were each from home.

I am friend of tile gypsies, maid and man, And the horse with the broken knees, And the lumber dog, and the caravan, - Asa the camp fire under the trees.; The children wild as a woodland fawn,

The girl with the loose black hair— I have sped them all at the grey of dawn

Down the road to Lipeomb Fair.

But dearest the day when the foxhounds meet On my grass plot green and wide,

When the pack comes up from Foldinglleet And the field from every side;

When I hear the far-off hounds in flight And the distant horn all day,

Till the parting horsemen call "Good-night 1* As I send them each his way.

The roads are white, and the roads are brown, And the rases bloom and die; -

The oak-buds break and the leaves come down, But apart and aloof am I.

The wheels may come and the wheels may go With the moods of the changing-year, But white with the dust or -white with snow I stand at the cross roads here.

Pll show you the way to Lythamstoke, I'll show you the way to Sheen, The road that takes you to Burton's Oak And the road to Tyndal Green;

And if you are looking for Foldingfieet

Or Lipeomb or Lilfordlea, You have only to stand where the four roads meet And inquire of the way from me !

WILL H. OciLvin.