And the clouds in the blue light their eyes as they pass;
But my feet are deep dawn in a drift of dead leaves,
And I hear what they hear not--a lone bird that grieves.
What matter? the end is not far for us all,
And spring, through the summer, to winter must fall,
And the lovers' light hearts, e'en as mine, will be laid,
At last, and for ever, low under thy shade,
Grey Tower of Dalmeny_.

GEORGE MILNER.




II

A CRY ACROSS THE BLACK WATER

_With Rosemary for remembrance,
And Rue, sweet Rue, for you_.


It was at the waterfoot of the Ken, and the time of the year was June.

"Boat ahoy!"

The loud, bold cry carried far through the still morning air. The rain
had washed down all that was in the sky during the night, so that the
hail echoed through a world blue and empty.