5 SEPTEMBER 1891, Page 16

POETRY.

—O bright and unforgotten love— Once in the circuit of the year, I bend thy lonely grave above.

There, where steep soars the virgin hill, And the blue channel-waters roll, I go to muse, 'and to fulfil A tender yearning of the soul : To muse on days that far away In Time's grey ocean, like an isle Touched with the pearly bloom of May And lit with morning, shine and smile : To marvel when, to wonder where These searching eyes shall find thee next, Find thee, still gracious, firm, and fair, With sorrow's mystery unvext.

Faith's noblest instinct is not blind, Hope's lark-like music empty speech ; I shall find thee, we lose to find, By the dark vale the mountains reach.

JOSEPH TRUMAN.