2 OCTOBER 1897, Page 17

POETRY.

STINT LACRECE RERIIM.

WHEN first Death laid his soothing hand On that wan, weary head, We smiled—a watching, weeping band- " The pain has ceased," we said.

And when the white-robed children sang The requiem of the blest With tearless voice, our answer rang As clear and undistress'd.

Nor blenched we when, as use allows, With knock and echoing din

The arch-landlord claimed his vacant house,—

Poor house, with walls so thin.

Yet when by hap the phial we spied, That long had drugged her pain,

Now thrust with useless things aside,—

Our tears fell like the rain. B.