5 MARCH 1881, Page 14

POETRY.

BEFORE THE SPRING.

Tun wind has blown the last year's leaves- From off the primrose head; The lilac-shoot its prison cleaves; The elm-tree tips are red.

And all about, though trees are bare, And covert none to sing, The blackbird heralds everywhere The coming of the spring.

Sing on, sweet bird, for you have faith To trust all darkness is not death !

The spring has signs to show her nigh, And bid the world prepare; Has Joy no herald, or must I Look for no future fair P My heart seems barren as a world Where Spring comes nevermore ; No leaf shows from its sheath uncurled ; No birds their raptures pour.

Yet, faithless heart, believing be,—

The Spring must conic again for thee ! R. I. 0.