20 FEBRUARY 1897, Page 15

POETRY.

MR. WATTS'S "HOPE."

HER feet are travel-stained, and bruised, and torn. Her eyes are blinded that she cannot see One step before her. All the harmony Out of her life with those snapt chords is gone. With care and grief she seems quite overborne. Darkness and clouds surround her. Can it be That this is Hope ?—she looks like Misery, This poor bowed figure, desolate, forlorn.

Yes! it is Hope. For, through the clouds, one fair, Bright star still shines. From one unbroken string Some low, sweet note is surely issuing?

See! how, in spite of all the aching care, Over the lyre she bends down listening.

Light, music, love, Hope findeth everywhere.

G. E. J.