28 JUNE 1879, Page 16

POETRY.

My heart in youth leaped high ; When poets sang of Love's young dream, What dreams of Love had I!

'Tis over now, the fever-heat, 'Tis past, the passion's hour; My feet have followed all the feet, Far 'neath the peaks that tower.

0 snowy peaks, that flame with day, Contentedly I see

Specks on you, that are men, and say,— Not those the paths for me !

This only striving,—to confess The peaks are just as bright, Nor those who climb are heroes less,

Though I must walk in night. R. I. 0.-