14 JULY 1877, Page 16

A PROTEST.

'I'm is is the sabbath season of the year,

When summer silence falleth on the earth,—

When truce bath come to husbandry and mirth, To mower's scythe and wanton wood-notes clear.

The world is still, as if with holy fear, And from its heart, through lily-bell and rose, A stream of incense rises up, and flows Godwards with soft repinings for His ear.

And I would with the sabbath world take rest, Could breathe my life out with the summer's sigh ; Could lay it at God's feet if, dispossest, My soul might feed new life as glad as high ; But of no dweller on this earth unblest,— This fair, lost world, where mortals love and die

EMILY PFEIFFER.