4 FEBRUARY 1899, Page 14

POETRY.

THE MIDNIGHT SKIES.

To finite minds there can but be The finite in infinity;

And as within its system's space Each planet has allotted place, The whole must be a continent Within undreamt-of limits pent. Again, if that be true indeed, That all the stars together speed For ever through the empty vast, One must be first and one be last.

Then, as the midnight skies we scan, Think of that star which leads the van ; Flung back by whose huge prow the seas Of terrible tranquillities, Aroused to ineffectual storm, Surge round the stars that following swarm, In new amazement, till the last Pale laggard of them all is past ; And all the fiery furrows fade God's worlds in splendid passage made.

W. G. HOLE.