POETRY.
TO MY MOTHER.
(TRINSLATZ.D FROM HEINE.)
I LEFT thee once in mad desire to find
The Love for which my spirit yearned with pain, At many a door I knocked and knocked in vain, Craving Love's alms which none to grant inclined,
Bat laughing, treated me with cold disdain ;— Yet still I wandered, eager in the quest, For ever seeking, and for aye nnblest,
Since no one gave the boon for which I pined. Then, Mother ! turning to my home I went With weary steps and sorrow-numbing care, And lo ! my pain was loot in sweet content, For what I sought came to me unaware; In the dear eyes that on thy son were bent All I had asked I found, for Love was there.
JOHN DENNIS.