HALCYON DAYS. 
1 1 1 
out against the ancient time-stained brick work, and covers the 
little arbour with its pendant clusters of flowers. The fig trees 
spread grey arms and scabrous leaves wide, green and cool, 
whilst again the jessamine fills the air with its sweetness. 
Across the sunny lawn the great yew trees cast long shadows 
and the roses bloom as of old, and in the side beds appear the 
marigolds and lilies, scarlet flower heads of the lychnis, sweet- 
williams, carnations, marvels of Peru, but rather apart, by the 
side of the fragrant rosemary bushes, grows in lavish profusion 
the love lies bleeding — the mysterious and sorrowful amaranth. 
Constance Hope. 
HALCYON DAYS. 
What happy hours I spend beside 
The gently flowing stream. 
Watching the waterfowl that hide 
Among the reeds, the fish that glide 
In silent sport, while far and wide 
The dancing ripples gleam. 
Blossoms are shaken from the trees. 
Like dazzling flakes of snow. 
Whirl’d by the gentle southern breeze 
From regions far o’er summer seas ; 
All round I hear the hum of bees, 
Monotonous and low. 
And like a sudden flash of light 
From gem of purest rays. 
The kingfisher with rapid flight 
Darts up the stream, gladdening my sight 
With show of azure plumage bright. 
That scarce a moment stays. 
But from that momentary gleam 
What pleasure I derive ! 
By that fair sight all others seem 
More bright, and happiness supreme 
Remains, as when from some sweet dream 
Forgotten joys revive. 
And through the dreary winter days, 
That vision fair will come, 
And cheer my heart with hope’s bright rays. 
Recalling summer’s woodland ways. 
Where thousand songsters trill their lays, - - 
Hid in their leafy home. -~4 j 
Mary C.^Walton. ' 
