12 MAY 1883, Page 14

POETRY.

SONNET.

Wan; Philomel her evening psalm hath ceased, Whilst raptured Echo sinks to sleep again, And men return to consciousness of pain,— On glow-worms doth she solitary feast.* E'en so the Poet in his deepest breast Seeks for that mystic light which, not in vain Bestowed by Him whose wisdom, as his reign, Is boundless, leads to everlasting rest ; And of this gift celestial weaves such charm As penetrates the clouds of earthly night, Stealing the souls of men from vain alarm, And Heav'n discloses to their erring sight,— Song horn of light to light is turned at will, For poetry is silent music still. C. M. F.