11 JULY 1885, Page 14

POETRY.

SONNET.

THE morning lights sleep softly on this hill ;— The snow clings coldly to Ben Nevis' sides ; And gently come and go the mystic tides

Which man's small measure with elixir fill : Thus slowly—certainly—the bond is knit Betwixt the passion of the heart, —the strain Which ever vexes the inquisitive brain,— And the great speaking silence that is writ On Nature's face :—for such as choose to go To school to learn her easy alphabet, Take the warm life and colour of her moods,— Thus, morning's promise, evening's afterglow, The patient hills, the dignity of woods, Are strong rebukes to all that makes us fret.