POETRY.

"TO HONOUR THEE, SWEET MAY !"—Woanswousn.

How fares it with thee, heart, to-day, When all around thee blooms the May ?

This year of grace, this "seventy-five ;" Say, does it see thee grow and thrive ?

The banker's balance safe and large, No thought of stint, but ample marge ? Choice books, choice wines, a fair estate, With hope of more at no long date, A Faed, a Millais now and then, A month in Italy again ; Admirers, flatterers, more and more, And invitations by the score ?

Is this thy wish while blooms the May?

'Tis this for which the many pray.

Or rather, looking on this strife, Feel'st thou abundance is not life ?

Wealth it is good, but is not all ; That plenty, if abused, will pall ?

Canst thon in this delicious May Remember Winter's brief, dull day, Remember life will pass away ?

Know'st thou more certainly each year

We are on trial, strangers here,—

Tenants of no abiding home, Heirs of a treasure still to come?

Whate'er He deems it beat to send, Canst thou thank God ?—for each true friend, For converse high, for beaming grace, And care-dispelling, tranced face?

For mind, for health, for power to work, For blessings that in small things lurk ?

Primrose and cowslip, bathed in dew, Fresh from the meads; and plucked for you,

Thy happy little children's gift,—

Can these thy better part uplift To Him who glorifies thy lot With what " the fortunate have not ?"

Then cheerly on from day to day, And thank Him for the flowering May.

FRANCIS Sr. Jonx TnAcxznAr...

Eton College, May 26.