(D.)
THE SISTERS OF GLEN-NEOT.
BY THE REV. R. S. HAWKER OF MORWENSTOW.
It is from Neot’s sainted steep
The foamy waters flash and leap;
It is where shrinking wild-flowers grow,
They lave the nymph that dwells below!
But wherefore in this far-off dell,
The reliques of a human cell?
Where the sad stream and lonely wind
Bring Man no tidings of their kind!