POETRY.

VOCATION.

ry I might choose my simple lot

Far from the town and quite forgot, All in a slIeltered nook and warm,

'Tis I would have a violet farm.

No daffodils should me entice, Nor hyacinths with their breath of spice, The tulip with her painted hood For me should wither where she stood..

Instead of sheep upon the sward, The modest violet I should herd. Instead of golden heads arow, Should see my violet harvest blow.

Under an arch of wild, wild cloud, Below an opal mountain bowed, All in a humid world and cool, With winds and waters beauti- ful.

What airs across my farm should fare !

'Tis sweet where pinks and roses are: But pinks and roses hide the face Before a violet-peopled place. No shortest day of all the year

Should fade without a violvt's cheer, Invisible sweetness hid within

And folded up in swathes of green.

Though white and purple babes be born When Daffodil his flaming horn O'er quiet hills and vales shall sound And stir the sleepers under- ground;

What country bliss can equal mine,

With violets for my flocks and kine, With violets for my corn and store ?

What could a mortal wish for more ?

Under a mountain pansy-dark, Loved of the eagle and the lark, And set too low for fear or harm,

'Tis I would have a violet farm.

KATHARINE TYNAN.