7 NOVEMBER 1896, Page 31

POETRY.

MADRIGAL.

THE SOWER.

'NEATn leaden skies, o'er sodden gras3

I saw a Sower pass.

4' What seed," said I, "go you to sow

'While rain falls fast, while chill winds blow ? "

"To sow the seeds of bliss," Said he, "my purpose is.

Weal is no growth of golden days alone: In saddest hours joy's seeds are ofttimes sown."

ELLA. FULLER MAITLAND.