24 DECEMBER 1887, Page 19

POETRY.

NATURE.

NATURE is like a sister to my eyes,

A maiden playful, petulant, and shy.

Deep in her face sweet meanings I espy Which now she fain would hide, as the far skies Hide their blue souls by some thin cloud that flies, Rendering concealment lovelier. I sigh When gazing on her charms, so quietly Expressed, and learn her soul by its fair guise.

Sometimes, with folded hands upon her breast, Alone, apart, like some sweet nun, I hear Her pray. Sometimes she sings to me, and fear And joy alternate rob my mind of rest.

Her dullest ways are full of winsomeness Her saddest moods are rich with hopes that bless.

WILL FOSTER.