28 MARCH 1903, Page 16

POETRY.

TEARS.

THESE are the blown spindrift that is lashed from the face of the waters

That cover the Soul with Care ; These are the Children of Sorrow, these are the sons and the daughters Sped forth from thy house, Despair !

Spray that is flung on the desolate cliffs from the deeps of sea-sources To lie, like a veil, on our biers ; Children that follow the plumes and the step of the stately black horses; Slow mourners, sure comforters—Tears!

WILL H. OGILVIE.