POETRY.
Tli.b1 NORTHERN LIGHTS. ALL scentless lie the fields of snow, The valley mists hang deep below, No earthy damps attaint the air, And all is pure and white and fair. No stir betrays the wandering breeze, No whisper from the frozen trees, They muster still and stark and pale, A phantom host in silver mall.
And silver-studded over all Is drawn night's velvet purple pall, And all is peace; the fitful breath Seems sacrilege in this land of death.
When far athwart the Northern Pole The rainbow-tinted streamers roll, The leag,uered wizard of the North Has flung his fiery challenge forth.
And, where across the frozen plain Lies the grim harvest of the slain, His icy searchlights coldly sweep The approaches to his virgin keep.
So are there latitudes too high In realms of cold philosophy, And barren wastes, that cannot give The bread whereby a man may live.
"Nord Saeter." W. GILCHRIST WILSON.
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