13 MAY 1882, Page 14


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,