POETRY.
WEST 'WIND.
THE years go by, though the days are long to a hungry heart. I was feeling content last night before the wind arose, A wind from the rainy West, tossing the wet, green boughs, It called me and mocked me, it filled my soul with a thousand woes.
0 wind from over the sea, voice from a dear land lost, Why need you seek me here, waking the old-time pain ? Sure my life is hard enough, there is not much joy to spare, 11-,- 'heart must break or follow if you call me like that again ! 0 wind from across the wave, wet with the wild sea spray, Were I but free, like you, I never would ask to roam
From the darling land you left, and the scent of the heath- clad hills I Did you come to break my heart, dear wind from the hills of home?
WINIFRED PA.TTON.
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