POETRY.
THE RIVER HOUSE.
FROM tower that seemed in sunset living stone, From shining tower and happy glowing tree, From russet roofs with the last glories burned, Out to the watermeads the lovers turned, And thin mists hatched along the lea Where they were walking lone.
The mists from marshy hollows rose and rolled, The sun dipped down, tho weir was hoard again ; And in.the colder light the bell tower frowned Above the housetops in old apathy drowned. Sad swayed the oak, and autumn's coming then His secret voice foretold.
But they are gone, and crest the bridge, and far They see the water hoarding up tho light. They wrap themselves about with earnest love And feel nor mist neither the sun's remove, Then pass into their cottage in delight, And thence tho bleak night bar.
For love dare tarry by the loneliest fen Nor trembles though the mist rise evil thence, Nor listens to the water speaking clear In exultation at the ancient weir- " The summer's gone, the recompense— Well may brave oaks quail then."
And I upon my solitary way While the huge shadow fell, I had my love, The lonely lauds, the dim airs, murmur strange Of midnight bade me like the wildfire range By dark town, ruin, delph, and grove With the spirit of swift decay.
EDMUND BLTTIq DE :I.
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