6 AUGUST 1887, Page 17

POETRY.

And if for care the wild birds cannot sing, Or, serious grown, the lambs cease gambolling, Needs must be life and laughter in the hills ; Fresh verdure now the new-mown valley fills, And though the foxglove peals no longer ring, The bramble blooms, and lo ! the heather-king Has won the glorious robe his proud heart wills.

Now gipsy rag-wort glitters, green nuts swell, Through the tall fern the sheep more whitely run, The tarns are lily-grown for Love a-dream ; How the heart beats ! the very mountains seem To pulse with feeling, while o'er lake and fell Roves with a lover's restlessness the San.

H. D. R.