20 MAY 1905, Page 15

POE TRY.

THE FOREST FINCH.

WHERE beech and pine, fresh leaves and tassels knitting,

Fashioned a very shrine of forest peace, In quiet so profound we two were sitting,

Earth's cares and crosses seemed the while to cease;

When to our feet a radiant finch came flitting, Then to his far mate gave his song release.

" Do you think," you whispered, " that sweet bird has seen us, And yet sings on? " And low I answered, "Yes !

From those bright eyes even fern-seed could not screen us, But with the daintiest deliberateness He's proved us votaries of both Pan and Venus, And so fit sharers of his love's distress."

And still the bird, while our two tongues we bridled,

All eye and ear to follow as he flew—

From twig to twig as soft he sprang and sidled, The same long liquid phrase trilled forth anew; And so the tender time away we idled, Till his mate melted and he flashed from view.

ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES.

Gurten Kuhn, Berne, June, 1904.