20 FEBRUARY 1875, Page 16



I SEND a sign of love ; the shower sends The breeze before it, whispering, " He is coming ! And the glad field her leaves and flowers bends, And hushes all her myriad insects' humming.

I send a sign of love ; the morning sends A rosy cloud, his mounted messenger ; And the glad earth in ecstacy attends, Sure now her love himself will come to her.. 0 fairer than the field, than the whole earth, Would that thy lover's coming in thy sight Were as the rain-cloud to a land of dearth, Were as the morning to a world of night ! F. W. B.