POETRY.
THE NEW HOME.
THE verdure-covered cabin lies Where yonder smoke-wreath fades away 'Tie sweet when light deserts the skies To wander at the close of day Along the rock-encircled bay, To see the boat at anchor ride, Or out upon the point to stray, And note the race of flowing tide.
Recline awhile this summer eve, Inhale at length the balmy air, And watch the light of sunset leave The snowy shroud the mountains bear ; Their summits still reflect a glare Already lost to earth below ; The sombre tint the forests wear Grows deeper in the twilight glow.
At ease upon the grassy mound, Embroidered here and there with fern, We listen to the ripples bound Across the dinghey's painted stern : Distinctly we may yet discern At yonder point a muffled roar, And watch the tide impetuous turn To eddy back along the shore.
And now, and once again we heed, Above the current's endless song, The plash of salmon, as they feed The water's giddy whirls among.
How blithely trills the busy tongue Of some small bird within the swal., !
How clear and infinitely strong His music ripples up the vale !
Increasing breadths of open mead The passing seasons ever show, From Nature rapt by tyrant Need : As in the past, they echo now The axe's far-resounding blow, Of felling-saw the monotone,
As many a giant swathe they mow, And lay the mighty forest prone.
Each stem of grass is gemmed with dew : Come, let us o'er the strand retrace Our way, for darkness veils from view The hardly won, the homely place, Which length of days can ne'er efface From mind : and gath'ring year by year The fruit of summer's warm embrace, We deem the homestead doubly dear.
Saturna Island, British Columbia. L. S. Moos.
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