POETRY.

SNORRO THE VIKING.

"On, who can drink at the world's brink,

Or reach the twilight star? It's a long sail where the winds wail

And the great waters are.

Or who can say at the parting day

That he will see once more His children's faces in happy places

And his true wife at the door ? "

Snorro the Viking, his thigh striking,

Laughed in his big red beard.

"Some are bound by sight and sound,

And some have wished and feared.

The days dream like a droning stream

Or moonlight in a wood,

And who can sate his love or bate Or the tumult of his blood?

Then cast the die for the open sky, When the great sun beats aboard, The foam-fleck and the narrow deck, The life of oar and sword.

Life and limb for the wind's hymn And all the fears that be, The ghost races with ghastly faces And the phantoms of the sea.

Hail the morrow," shouted Snorro, "I longed and have not feared."

And his great laughter fol- lowed after And rumbled in his beard.

A. B. S. TENNYSON.