POETRY.
A PRIVATE AUDIENCE.
SNOW-MANTIS') Queen, whose unveiled majesty
Once more my toil o'erpays, and with sweet fruit Fresh from the Tree of Life bids Beauty ply My resting soul, hold me in rapture mute Till I have felt the will divine in thee Urging the burns to fret thy strength away,
That man may win a hairsbreadth o'er the sea, A moment sooner greet the promised day.
And when night comes, shall what has loved thee lie
'Heath the relentless plain across the west
Where shadow-stricken hopes escape to die P Some part of me, still clinging to thy breast Shall share thy sacrifice, till sinless morn
End thy long labour in a world reborn. B. L. G. I.