18 OCTOBER 1890, Page 17

DELAYING SUMMER.

"FAREWELL !" she says ; and yet again, "Farewell !"

And turns to go, and yet returns again, With flying feet, desirous to remain, Though in the songless coverts of the dell The hawthorn reddens, and the brown nuts swell ;

Down the spent field the ploughman drives his wain ;

And desolate are left in wood and lane The happy nest, the wild bee's fragrant cell.

And yet between the sobs of wind and rain, Between its tears, the sky is blue again As August harebells, and the winds are mute ; A blackbird runs the gamut of his flute; A buttercup's in bloom ; and one believes A swallow broods beneath the sunny eaves.

KATE CARTER.