30 MARCH 1912, Page 17

POETRY.

MISTAKEN TRYST.

I BROODBD by the frosty fire, And heard the snow-wind moan, So sad the night, I could not stay While she lay there alone.

But when I reached the little mound 'Whose loneness called tome,

It seemed a,small voice in My heart

Reproached me whisperingly : " Why' bring me thro' the night P I tow) • Beside'your fire to sit ; Why crouch here,?'' It nii bciely be, I was so tired'of ' HA BBERTONLII A M. • • ., • , .