POETRY.
"SPRING'S SECRETS."
As once I paused on poet wing In the green heart of a grove, I met the Spirit of the Spring With her great eyes lit of Love.
She took me gently by the hand, And whispered in my anxious ear Secrets none may understand, Till she make their meaning clear : Why the primrose looks so pale; Why the rose is set with thorns; Why the magic Nightingale Through the darkness mourns and mourns..
She ceased : a leafy murmur sighed Softly through the listening trees. Anon she uttered, eager-eyed, These her joyful mysteries : How the angels, as they pass With their vesture pure and white O'er the shadowy garden grass, Touch the lilies into light : Or with hidden hands of love Guide the throstle's wavering wings, But show their faces bright above, Only where the skylark sings.
THE AUTHOR OF "SONGS OF KILLARNEY.'
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