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.