31 AUGUST 1889, Page 17

POETRY.

A HOLIDAY SONNET. NORWAY, AUGUST 1Sra, 1889.

ONE week, a thousand chimneys belching night Above the throbbing of a thousand mills :— Next week, deep hidden 'mid the towering hills, A far-off Northern valley, pure and bright. Along the margin of each scarped height The blue-tipped glacier overlaps, and fills A thousand gullies with his tribute rills To the blue river in its seaward flight.

And it is well : for here I fain would seek

Fresh communings with Nature's finer moods, And listen as her silent voices speak Their secrets in the soul's rare solitudes : Lest toil, unresting, dim the light above, And narrow-down God's amplitude of Love.

W. W. W.