THE DRYA_t)'S HOUSE. TIIIa cool and glooming summer wooA Is wise and silent in its mood,
For ever moving in its dream Of breathing leaf and sunny gleam.
Whatever voice, within, is heard Of stir of leaf or whir of bird; Without, its trance is ever one Of breathing, sleeping shade and sun.
The gleaming gold of summer fields Dreams through its green of leafy shields And windows of the shining wind, With grey trunks looming dim behind,
Grotesque and ancient, all their-peace The dreams of gods of olden Greece,—
As though in ages long ago, Before their dreams began to grow, Some startled fleeing dryad hid Within this leafy coverlid; Enmeshed her silvern reveries here, And filled its shadows with her fear : And all the woodland mind inwrought With golden filigree of thought And maiden fancies pensive spun, From purpled skeinings of the sun, Woven on sunbeam shuttled looms, Dim, luminous, of these leafy rooms.
W. WILFRED CAMPBELL,