POETRY.
THE SECRET OF THE SEA.—SONNET. WHAT is your woe, or who hath done you wrong, Sorrowful surges wailing up the shore ?
"No hope !" ye cry, " Too late ! 0, nevermore !"- A chill despair the burden of your song.
To stars and flying clouds, the whole night long, Ye sob your mournful story o'er and o'er; It echoes through the sea-cave's weedy door, And gains in anguish as the wind grows strong.
The great Sea-mother, rent with many woes, Pours out her heart in unavailing tears For all the evils that remorseless Fate
Has wrought thro' her, these thousand thousand years— For those whose name is perished—and for those
Whose house it left unto them desolate.
M. C. GILLINGTON.