29 NOVEMBER 1879, Page 13

POETRY.

GTOYTH whiter on the deepening blue, I find some brief-lived thoughts in you, That rise not in the night or noon.

Of faded loves, that once were sweet, But now are neither sweet nor Bad; Of hopes that, distant, looked so glad, Yet lie, unnoticed, at our feet : Of these I think, until the red Has wasted from the Western sky, And royal reigns the Moon on high ;- What profits to lament the dead ?

Small profit ; yet in dreams that hold One hand to forward, one to past, We stay the years that fly so fast, And fink our new lives to the old. F. W. B.