POETRY.
A WALK IN SPRING.
A VOICE allured me on by vale and stream,
I heard the ring-dove cooing in the trees, And stept light-hearted in a happy dream, Fanned by the April breeze.
The squirrel, wakened from his winter sleep, Flung his broad tail to the exulting wind; The gleeful swallow in his aery sweep . Bade me leave care behind.
Blue was the sky, and clear the lark's glad voice; Beneath my feet the ground was thick with flowers;. The mountain river cried " Rejoice ! rejoice !
Thank God for quiet hours."
And ever as I went a Friend was near, Unseen, but with his hand close-clasp'd in mine, I had no sense of distance, or of fear, But felt that clasp, divine.
No more I knew the sorrow of the years—
The cold, dark years beset with toil and pain,— My wearied eyes were warm with grateful tears,
And I was young again. JOHN DENNIS,
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