POETRY.
A DREAM GLIMPSE.
I CROSSED the ocean in a dream one autumn night, Nor knew at first my landing-place—the Isle of Wight. Beyond a gate a knoll rose steep with fir-trees crowned ; Beneath, their soft, brown needles carpeted the ground.
One came—the pictured face that I had treasured long. I stood before the Master reverenced in song !
He spoke—then slowly passed. And now until I die
I hold the fir-crowned knoll; the dim, grey, windy sky;
The beating of the ocean waves beneath my feet ; The steadfast look ; the deep low tones so strong and
sweet—
All, all are mine ! if but a dream—yet not less mine, That when I woke, remembrance was my only sign.
Toronto, Canada.
IL ALGON KIRBY.