THE MIST.

IN dewy splendor from afar, -

With noiseless sweep, like angel's wing -

Enveloping

In soft caressing shroud, the earth;

E'er floating, like a gentle breath,

New-wafted from the farthest star,

Come, ever fleeting,

Fast retreating,

Aimless spirits of the Mist.

Where mighty oceans throb, they play;

Some haunt the cataract's wild roar.

Forevermore

They rise at twilight, like the ghost

Of vanished time - a serried host,

E'er vanquished by the glance of day.

Farewell, delaying,

Ever playing,

Weeping Spirits of the Mist!

J. S. M.