POETRY.

IN ANOTHER COUNTRY.

WHEN the lamp's guardian flame was out, he fell

Through dark abysses full of hollow sound, Through caves of sleep that murmured like a shell, Till in night's furthest corridors he found, Past any thought or feeling, his escape, Where being loses shape, Where sorrow melts and merges in profound Blackness, that is not pricked by any light.

There he found rest, how long he could not knoy7,

In the deep middle of unfriendly night, Safe in his stupor through the to and fro Of the slow hours which strike and will not sparo.

But sorrow's pack soon scented that dark lair, And as he slept he knew that gradually Light grew around him, lifting veil by veil The swathings of his hid security, Till darkness' self grew pale.

Whither he wandered in that middle land, Shining and silent, between sleep and waking, How should he tell ? But yet he sees them stand, Those calm and careen poplars, rising, breaking Like frozen fountains the still, pearl-pure skies, Sees, but not hears, the soundless aspen shaking Over the long and lichened seat of stone

Where he awoke. Ho lifted heedless eyes

Across the lawns and flower-beds overgrown Up to the house that crowned the terraces,

And down again, and saw the staring pond,

Lucent and smooth and ringed with irises,.

The tall yew-hedge, the orchard trees beyond. i .

All this, most strange, was strange beyond his care, For 'grief attended him, Moved like a wind soft fingers in his hair, .

And with her touch his burning eyes made dim, And now his eyes dropped tears, and did not see The glowing house, poised on the soft low sky, The rich warm flowers that nodded silently Around him or the birds in bush and tree That moved as noiseless as the clouds. But soon Across the hush of that too quiet noon, Something unseen yet drew his misty gaze To look for what he guessed not. So there came Softly towards him through the garden ways A girl in white. Like an unreal flame A golden pattern played upon her dress, Which, as he stared at her, he knew to be Cast by the tears on his own eyelashes, Gathering softly and heavily.

Then, as again his eyes were dimmed by tears,

And with the falling echo of old fears, His heart was filled, he bowed his head and felt Her sudden soothing hand upon his hair ; And moved by 'a strange reverence he knelt, His hot face hiding in those hollow palms, And laid upon her lap his vague despair, Till, as a mild wind, risen at evening, calms

The last black vapours from a tumbled sky, Her touch serenely rolled away his care,

And shed on him her own tranquillity.

A timeless moment thus he Stayed and drew Peace from her hands and from her face unseen, And in that posture greater quiet knew Than ever yet his heart had found between The grinding wheels of wakefulness and sleep Which day or night are full of restless sound, Laments of giants bound,

Or lost birds crying on the lightless deep.

A moment—then the darkness of her hand Crew thicker round his eyes, and held no more The warm reflected sunshine of that land . .

Deeper and colder. . . and a shudder tore

His waking body, and a thin noise sighed

Through a now darkness dense and terrible That blackened around him. " Stay, stay, stay ! " he cried.

Like the harsh notes of a storm-shaken bell ; But thicker all about the shadow fell, Till with a pang he opened heavy eyes

On the beginning of a pale sunrise,

That flickered chilly en the lamp and bed.

Outside his window the sad aspen . shook,

Murmuring loudly, and its tapered head

The poplar sighing bowed. An early rook

In the stiff elm rehearsed the grating cry Which all the others answered back again. Burdened by life and by a memory, He rose to join the usual world of men.

EDWARD SHANKS.