AN ODE OF ODOURS.

Oh, what is this faint perfume that I smell,

And smelling seem, somehow, to know so well?

What recollections should it start again,

What memories of the past bring in its train?

Is it a whiff of country come to-day,

Of mangel-wurzels, or of new-mown hay?

Or was it when She witched me with a glance

The subtle odour reached me—at the dance?

Where'er it was, I'm certain that I know it,

As certain as I am I'm not a poet,

But stay, was it when influenza gripped us?

It was! Eureka! Yes, it's Eucalyptus!