Calls them and they answer: from aisles of oak and

ash

Rings the Follow! Follow! and the boughs begin to crash;

The ferns begin to waver and the flowers begin to

fly;

And through the crimson dawning the robber band goes by.

Robin! Robin! Robin! All his merry thieves
Answer as the bugle-note shivers thro' the leaves:
Calling as he used to call, faint and far away,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

ALFRED NOYES.

FAR-AWAY.

As chimes that flow o'er shining seas
When Morn alights on meads of May,
Faint voices fill the western breeze
With whisp'ring songs from Far-Away.
Oh, dear the dells of Dunamore,

A home is odorous Ossory;
But sweet as honey, running o'er,

The Golden Shore of Far-Away!

There grows the Tree whose summer breath
Perfumes with joy the azure air;

And he who feels it fears not Death,
Nor longer heeds the hounds of Care.
Oh, soft the skies of Seskinore,

And mild is meadowy Mellaray.
But sweet as honey, running o'er,
The Golden Shore of Far-Away.

There sings the Voice whose wondrous tune

Falls, like diamond-showers above

That in the radiant day of June
Renew a world of Youth and Love.
Oh, fair the founts of Farranfore,
And bright is billowy Ballintrae ;
But sweet as honey, running o'er,
The Golden Shore of Far-Away.

Come, Fragrance of the Flowering Tree,
Oh, sing, sweet Bird, thy magic lay,
Till all the world be young with me,
And Love shall lead us far away.
Oh, dear the dells of Dunamore,
A home is odorous Ossory;
But sweet as honey, running o'er
The Golden Shore of Far-Away.

DR. GEORGE SIGERSON.

POEMS OF SENTIMENT.

POEMS OF SENTIMENT.

I.

TIME.

TIME THE SUPREME.

FROM NIGHT THOUGHTS," NIGHT I.

THE bell strikes one: we take no note of time, But from its loss. To give it, then, a tongue,

Is wise in man.

As if an angel spoke,

I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright,

It is the knell of my departed hours:

Where are they? With the years beyond the flood.

It is the signal that demands despatch;

How much is to be done! my hopes and fears
Start up alarmed, and o'er life's narrow verge
Look down-on what? a fathomless abyss;
A dread eternity; how surely mine!
And can eternity belong to me,

Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?

Time the supreme! -Time is eternity;
Pregnant with all eternity can give ;

Pregnant with all that makes archangels smile.