2 MARCH 1878, Page 15

POETRY.

A STRANGE SINGER.

JOY'S the shyest bird Mortal ever heard ; Listen rapt and silent when he sings ; Do not seek to see, Lest the vision be But a flutter of departing wings.

Straight down out of heaven Drops the fiery leaven, Beating, burning, rising in his breast ; Never, never long Canst thou bear the song, All too high for labour or for rest.

Hope can sit and sing With a folded wing, Long contented in a narrow cage ; Patience on the nest, Hour by hour will rest, Brooding tender things in hermitage.

Singers true and sweet, Mockers bright and fleet, Close about thy door they flit and call ; One that will not stay Draws thy heart away ; Listen ! listen ! It is more than all CARL SPENSER.