12 JANUARY 1901, Page 17

1.11/, GHOST.

LIKE to the ghost now do you come Of one who came of yore, And yet no spectre pale and dumb But fashioned as before.

Not but in semblance and in name— In gesture, bearing, tone the same.

Sometimes the very words you say You said to me of old,—

Words with their spirit passed away And all their life-blood cold.

And when you leave me tears I shed For one much loved, for one now dead.

ELLA FULLER MAITLAND.