LOCUST BLOSSOMS. 



W. H. NELSON. 



O the locusts are in bloom, 

 And the heavy, sweet perfume 

 Loads the air with lotus languor, calling 

 up the dreamy past ; 

 Present pain is an forgot, 

 Fades each dark and sinful blot, 

 And the days are bright with gladness, 

 each one fairer than the last. 



Hark, the burly bumble's drone, 

 As he culls the clustered cone, 

 Reeling off with tipsy tumbles and a roys- 

 tering drinking song ! 

 See the dandy Robin, drest 

 In his crimson satin vest, 

 Hear him fill the sky with music ! How he 

 pours his soul along ! 



Yonder humming bird in green, 

 Brooch of dazzling ruby sheen, 

 See him hang above each flow'ret on his 

 tiny, veinless wing ! 

 Fairy soft his touches light, 

 Fairy swift his arrowy flight, 

 And how dainty is the cradle where his 

 wee, wee darlings swing! 



Lying here upon the grass, 

 Gazing on the clouds that pass, 

 Childish eyes grow wide with wonder if 

 they be not angels' boats, 

 Sailing o'er an ocean blue, 

 Each one to its guidance true, 

 Whence away and whither sailing, every 

 snowy frigate floats. 



Ah, the happy dream is sped, 

 And the locust blossoms shed, 

 Fall in faded showers about me on the 

 whispering evening wind. 

 Flowers of childhood, one by one, 

 Faded, fallen, all are gone, 

 Hither, thither, drifting, sifting ; only 

 Hope is left behind. 



NIGHTHAWK ON NEST. 

 Highly commended in Recreation's 5th Annual Photo Competition. 



*9 



AMATEUR PHOTO BY HERBERT K. JOB. 



