49 



Can there e'er be a thought to an elderly person 



So keen, so inspiring — so hard to forget — 



So fully adapted to break into verse on 



As this — that the steel isn't out of him yet ? 



That flying speed tickles one's brain with a feather; 



That one's horse can restore one the years that are gone 



That spite of gray winter and weariful weather. 



The blood and the pace carry on, carry on ! 



E. St. John Tyewhitt, 



In "Our Sketching Club." 



'' rOEMOSISSIMUS ANNUS." 

 Atjtumn, 1884. 



They have done with the beans, they have carried the 



corn, 

 The white Autumn furrows are glittering and shorn ; 

 The seven-o'clock sunshine is cloudless and clear, 

 And sweet to the end is the Beautiful Year. 



The Port Meadow turf echoes low as we ride, 

 And light is the gallop by Isis her side ; 

 Down float on her waters, more scarlet than sere, 

 The sun-tinted leaves of the Beautiful Tear. 



Black rooks and grey starlings are mustering on high, 

 The blue heron wings over with desolate cry; 

 The lapwings they whistle and wail far and near; 

 Are they sad for the wane of the Beautiful Year ? 



