POETRY.

THE DREAM-MERCHANT.

THE merchantmen went out of town below the evening star,

Steering for the sunset and the isles of their intent; Their prows were stiff with scrolls of gold, their hulls were wet with tar,

Twenty goodly galleons, full of silver to be spent.. .

We watched them growing far, and all so stately as they went.

And just about the hour that the air grows grey and deadly, A little boat ran into port and moored beside the rails;

Its hold was crammed with merchandise, heaped up in gorgeous medley, Gleaming like the glimpses of an old sea-serpent's scales, And the water rippled redly from its rose-red sails.

His robe was strewn with wizardry and legends of star-gazing, Mystic as the glitter of that magic pedlary; Out he leaped upon the stair with attitudes amazing, Squandering magnificence in riot on the quay . . . The summer light was hazing, and no one there but me.

Splendours lay within his hands, the spoils of midnight thieving Out of secret opium-dens and desolate bazaars . . . Shreds of crimson tapestry and webs of wondrous weaving, Dragon-painted porcelain and curving scimitars, Fishes past believing, and Genii in jars.

And " Oh," he cried, " Come buy, come buy! Hero's many a toy and fairing

Warranted as Magic of the rarest quality; The price is but a bagatelle, the bargain past comparing, A little scorn of dreams too low, an ache for hopes too high, A little heart's despairing. . . . Will nobody come buy?

Boxes carved of sandalwood, of cedar and acacia, Stuffed with poisoned sweetmeats such as diplomats require, Looted from the palace of the Empress Anastasia

-The night we sacked her citadel, and set the world on fire From Babylon to Asia and the Isles of Lost Desire! "

All my wealth I showed him, all my treasure-hoard of earning . . .

His eyes grew green with avarice enkindled by the sight . Lastly as we bartered by the lantern's fitful burning, I paid him with my peace of mind for each undreamed delight; The tide was scarcely turning when he vanished through the night.

When (lid he bewitch me, with what spell was I enchanted So to be beguiled of faith, so cheated of my trust?

For when the first swift spear of light through leagues of morning slanted, The painted silks began to fade, the jewelled knives to rust, Crumbled to a haunted shade, a heap of elfin dust!

Day by day the citizens, with hearts athirst for plunder, Count their gold with eyes of greed, hot hands and mumbling lips, Bandy tales of seafaring, above the wave and under, Hag-brewed storms and cries at night, the death-fire and eclipse, Watching for the wonder of the homeward-steering ships.

And still alone at evening, when air grows grey and deadly,

Beggared and despised I stand beside the weed-hung rail's, Waiting for a little boat, heaped up in curious medley, Glimmering with the lustre of an old sea-serpent's scales, And the water running redly from its rose-red sails.

DOROTHY H. Rows.