13 MAY 1882, Page 14
POETRY.
The Sun uprises now, The darkness falls away, Pink flush on mountain brow Declares the birth of day. Sing, Poet, sing !
No song sing I ; The Sun sings songs of light ; Man must go forth to toil, Till dusk brings down the night, His song the furrowed soil.
No song sing I.
Rest, Poet, rest !
The night is now at hand, The darkness falls apace, See, over all the land . The shadows interlace ! Rest, Poet, rest !
• Snollstra Works. Edinburgh: W. P. Nicara9, MO, page a2.
No rest need I ; Sweet silence bids me sing, The heavens are all a-hush, I hear them listening ; Now, let the songs out-gush,
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