POETRY.
CATKINS.
Or many a flower of famous note The Summer weaves her pall ; I give my love to one remote And less inclined to fall : The catkin in his yellow coat And grey fur over alL He comes a champion unafraid Though Winter rule the land, When never a primrose lights the glade Nor a violet scents the band, Or ever the cowslip-ball is made Or the crocus-hollow scanned : He comes to hedge-rows bare and black And breaks them into joy, With a tuft of yellow a-top the stack For every breeze to toy ; He carries a winter coat on his back With the merry heart of a boy; He goes before the leaves are green Or the cuckoo loud in May. And children love his olive sheen Of silver-suited grey, For he is catkin-soft for a queen, And he grows above their play.
When merry roses sway and float And beckon from the wall, And breezes bend the lily's throat,
And hollyhocks grow tall—
I mind me of the yellow coat With grey fur over all !
H. F. B. BRETT-SMITH.
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