1 DECEMBER 1917, Page 27

POETRY.

ROSE-LEAVES.

Tan Rose must fall before the scent Of her silken leaves is spent.

Unfamiliar with decay Glide her loveliness away.

Dimly from her glowing heart The odorous petals break apart, Delicately one by one Drift in silence film' the sun, And in crispen bunches follow Hollow clasped to velvet hollow.

Swift, in unlamenting pride, Flake on flake the balmy tide Deepens—not a perfumed tear Or sigh save heaven alone may hear.

Lay thy cheek against the cool Fragrance of thie crimson pool; Drink these rose-leaves' mellow breath, Then, 0 tell me—is this death?

Si. M. JOHNSON.