27 AUGUST 1887, Page 18

THE SEA-MEW.

SOFT as a summer clondlet, the sea-mew

On foam-white wing sails thro' the noontide air ; No creature of ethereal mould more fair, While she her upward soaring doth pursue, Translucent to the sunbeam in the blue ; Anon, as one refresh'd by draughts of prayer Descends to daily toil, she sinks to bear The buffets of the billows whence she flew.

I, like the sea-bird visiting the sky, Enjoy my holiday of hours serene ; And on the shore, or from the cliff sublime, Inhale the air of heaven ; or, musing, ply Sweet paths to seek in some sequester'd scene Embower'd ruins of the olden time.