20 JANUARY 1900, Page 17



0 BITTER wind toward the sunset blowing,

What of the dales to-night?

In yonder gray old hall what fires are glowing, What ring of festal light ?

"In the great window as the day was dwindling I saw an old man stand ; His head was proudly held and his eyes kindling, But the list shook in, his hand."

0 wind of twilight, was there no word uttered, No sound of joy or wail?

"'A great fight and a good death,' he muttered, Trust hint, he would not fail.'"

What of the chamber dark where she was lying For whom all life is done ?

" Within, her heart she rocks a dead child, crying JIy son, my little son.'"