POETRY.

THE CUCKOO.

0 I- .GOLDEN- Call !

That eehoest thyself, yet.doet not pall .

On .listening_ ape, who nameth thee:,

And. with' swift joy acclaimeth thee

A -Voice ,f roue the-.Sun,

Where Winter- there is- none; Thou Flame!

Without thee Spring. itself is but a name!

For • thy elate

And winged summons„ near. reiterates

Awakes a. bliss that filleth us,

A. glory of life thet-theilleth us.

A passion of dreams Frern out .those-amber beams Of light.

Whose. radiance. drew thee hither:in thy ..fliglat !

Then- distant,. sweet.

Tho' faint as Spirit-sound., the .pulaing-.bea* Of thy -heart's music calleth -us, Its magic rhythm enthralleth It seems to the ear.

The vast, dim atmosphere Must .be A far-off' shrine and thou its mystery !

In that „chill hour When ceases the song...of -the first glad shover, Thy note, a trump's intensity,

Calls out from-Heaven's immensity A- splendour,- a blase,

The -wan, and. veiled. haze..

Is. gone!.

While,thy triumphal shout- still ringeth on, O! Tongue of Fire!

Lisistent,..clear,.the voice of our desire!,

We hear .Spring's laughter . long in the% And Regal Summer's song in thee,- For thou and the Sun, And.Youth and Hope are one; Thou 'Flame!

Remendering -thee; Winter . is •btit's- name!

MARY J. Goon.