6 OCTOBER 1883, Page 15

POETRY.

A FANCY.

SWEET Summer went forth to the fields, With roses entwined in her hair ; Her footsteps as light

As her glances were bright, And all that she looked upon fair.

Grave Autumn, beholding the maid, Grew cheery in chanting her charms ; They met, but, alas !

All her strength seemed to pass, And she languished to death in his arms.

Now sombre grew Autumn and sear,

As he clung to the maid in his woe ;

Then Winter passed by, And, with tear-stricken eye, Hid them both 'neath a mantle of snow.

Sheffield.

jOSEPII DAWSON.