THE POETRY OP FIj.'WERS. 
But woodbines flaunt when blue bells fade. 
Where Don reflects the skies; 
And many a youth in Shirecliffs’ shade 
Will ramble where my boyhood play’d; 
Though Alfred dies. 
Then panting woods the breeze will feel 
And bowers, as heretofore, 
Beneath their load of roses reel: 
But I through woodbine lanes shall steal 
No more, no mor«. 
Well, lay me by my brother’s side, 
Where late we stood and wept; 
For I was stricken when he died**”' 
i felt the arrow as he sigh’d 
His last, nd Kagtu 
