BIVOUAC. '?'?

Draw well the curtains oí my bed to-night.

And let me sleep; the happy dav was long; Diaw well the curtains, gentle wind, with light

Melodious fingers, waken the croon song

The sheoak's ancient lullaby, the same

That sings of rest by rest's most perfect

name

This be my pillow then where dry and brown

Lies last year's garment shaken from Uie

boughs,

A springy couch-nor sottest wool nor down,

I crave, so fitly furnished in this house;

The low flame of the campfire flutters

red,

And whispers like a prayer beside my bed.

How good are simple things-dear Lord, how

good

The breadth ot earth to stretch the weary

limbs,

Clean water, cheering fire, and needed food,

And quiet, vast as the great range that dims

All yonder, till the Moon of her white t

bliss. ',,

Lays on his btow-Endymlon-wise-her

kiss. 11 Now still thee wind, until the morning comes, j \\

That dries the dew from low-swung canopy, ' j 1 And brings the flame-breast robin for h'j

crumbs; c

AS one small drop of water m the sea ^

Moon-silvered, and day's drowsy memories

wend

Down leagues of sunlit travel to his end.

I JU--1 MCFADYEN.

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