4 AUGUST 1877, Page 19

POETRY.

SONNET.

A moriaNT past, the whole of this fair scene Was wrapt by clouds that now are rolling fast Up yonder mountain. See now, where the last Has left its top, the landscape lies serene, Far-spreading ; at my feet the hill-side green ; Below, the lake, upon whose breast is cast The adverse mountain's form ; and, gliding past, A boat appears, the splashing oars are seen.

As with this earthly prospect, so the soul Is wrapt by mist, and clouds of threatening form Beat on it with full fury ; thunders roll; And all seems death and darkness. Then the warm through ; Strong sun bursts a swift wind sweeps the whole ; The heart stands free ; God's sun has held the storm.