28 MARCH 1868, Page 14

SONNET.

SHALL I forget thee when the spring comes back, And the green mists begin about the trees, And cling, and brighten ; and no heart has lack Of living, and no ear of melodies, And no eyes weary of the rainless air—

The world grows sweeter than a heart can bear, Live with white violets, whose breath has made Earth like a pillow where young heads are laid, Fragrant and frail, and hid in their warm air ; When all sweet flower-scents rise like happy rhymes, From golden memories of olden times, And out of Death springs Life, and joy from pain, And laughter to young lips, and love to men— Shall I forget thee then, forget thee then ?