27 JANUARY 1872, Page 15

"OH THAT I HAD WINGS LIKE A DOVE!"

OH, restless brain ! be still a little while ;

Let tender twilight steep thy stores in peace, The happy consciousness of calm shall ease Thy troubled toilings, and that restful smile

No Intellectual pleasure can beguile

Shall steal across the features which reveal

The outcome of thy workings. Thou shalt feel

As in the sunny days long since gone by, When sin as yet was germinal, and thought From many a pleasant flight found rest at home.

Now the bird-thoughts that ever outward fly

Have dulled their plumage,—rest in vain is sought, And thou upon thyself must prey, till some Kind angel who may heal thy hurts shall come.

C. A. GOODHAUT.