T. W. ROLLESTON

Many and many a son of Conn the Hundred-Fighter

In the red earth lies at rest; Many a blue eye of Clan Colman the turf covers,

Many a swan-white breast.

��JOHN DAVIDSON

8?o. Song

HTHE boat is chafing at our long delay,

• And we must leave too soon

The spicy sea-pinks and the inborne spray, The tawny sands, the moon.

Keep us, O Thetis, in our western flight!

Watch from thy pearly throne Our vessel, plunging deeper into night

To reach a land unknown.

��'o

��8?i. The Last Rose

WHICH is the last rose?' A blossom of no name.

At midnight the snow came;

At daybreak a vast rose,

In darkness unfurl'd,

Q'er-petall'd the world.

Its odourless pallor Blossom'd forlorn, Till radiant valour Established the morn

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