378 Notes and Comments. 



FROM THE BEECH WOODS.* 

 South Cave, Sept. 23rd. 



Under the shafted beech trees tall and straight, 



Looking down on the lifted chalk below, 



With its deep, far shadows and golden glow, 

 Like a ' promised land ' to the eager sight, 

 Village and wood are asleep in the light, 



And fair as a dream in September's flow — 



No light leaves are dancing, no winds ablow, 

 Where the Humber sleeps in the Autumn bright, 

 Peace, perfect peace ! where the stubble-fields rest, 



Where the green lanes stretch, with their hedges dark, 

 But lit by the flame of the hips and haws, 



And sweet with the strength of the ploughed earth's breast. 



Where the sod is rent by the chalk's white mark, 

 And gay are the hues of the earth's repose. 



September 24th. E. Lamplough. 



THE WRITING ON THE TREE. 



Salix caprea, Nov. 25th. 



The sere-leaf sallow at my gate 



Is all in silken bud ; 

 And Hope says, if we only wait ! 



All shall be understood. 

 But what the Message ? Who shall say't 



Save that it must be good. 



Reflect ! — How wonderful the birth 

 Of each new day upon the earth, 



How dignate Nature's mien ! 

 How briefly black, nor longtime red, 

 Quick- hiding all her parts of dead 



'Neath lightsome, living green ! 



The dear All Mother feels to breathe 

 Her secret — Naught is lost, beneath 



The shroud or eke the shell : 

 Look ! ' Palm '-buds on the withy's whip 

 Grow big with life through all the drip 



Of cloud or icicle ; 

 So rathe or late comes Easter Day 

 Ready to wave that tassell'd spray 



For Moth and Man— a Spell. 



F. Arnold Lees. 



* From the Hull Literary Club Magazine, Vol. V., pt. 1, p. 32. 



Naturalist, 



