IN THE RHINE WOODS.

CUCKOO! CUCKOO!

I hear it again!

An echo of youth from its far sunny shore;

Through the dim distant years it resoundeth once more.

How mingled the feelings that rise with the strain—

The joy and the pain!

I hear it, but not

In the home of my childhood, the glorious and grand,

’Mid the wild woody glens of my own native land.

Ah! dear to me still is each far distant spot,

And present in thought.

I see them to-day!

The glory of Spring-time on valley and hill,

That struck to my heart with a rapturous thrill,

And friends in the sunshine of life’s early ray,

Young, happy, and gay.

All vanished and gone!

Could I see it indeed as in spirit I see,

The home of my youth would be joyless to me;

Like a bird’s empty nest when the tenant has flown,

Deserted and lone.

Soft, softly it rings!

O shades of the buried Past, slumber in peace!

O heart, bid thy sad, tender memories cease!

And welcome the Present, with all that it brings

Of beautiful things.

How often in youth

I have dreamed of this land of the oak and the vine,

This green, lovely land on the banks of the Rhine,

With longing prophetic, that one day in sooth

The dream should be truth.

Now gladly I rest

’Mid its scenes of enchantment with those that I love;

Warm hearts are around me, blue skies are above;

And though distant are some of the dearest and best,

I am thankful, and blest.

The years as they roll

Rob the cheek of its glow and the eyes of their light,

And much we have cherished is lost to the sight;

But one thing remains that they cannot control—

The youth of the Soul.

I. A. S.

Printed and Published by W. & R. Chambers, 47 Paternoster Row, London, and 339 High Street, Edinburgh.