2LETT 2 COLLICE' ZNKKEA' EACIVAD

morning; they say at one o'clock; and I hear he died suddenly. To-morrow I shall know more. He is a great loss to us: I cannot think who will succeed him as lord president. I have been writing a long letter to Lord Peterborow, and am dull.

4. I dined to-day at Lord Shelburne's, where Lady Kerry made me a present of four India handkerchiefs, which I have a mind to keep for little MD, only that I had rather, &c. I have been a mighty handkerchief-monger, and have bought abundance of snuff ones since I have left off taking snuff. And I am resolved, when I come over, MD shall be acquainted with Lady Kerry: we have struck up a mighty friendship: and she has much better sense than any other lady of your country. We are almost in love with one another: but she is most egregiously ugly; but perfectly well bred, and governable as I please. I am resolved, when I come, to keep no company but MD; you know I kept my resolution last time; and, except Mr. Addison, conversed with none but you and your club of deans and Stoytes. 'Tis three weeks, young woman, since I had a letter from you; and yet, methinks, I would not have another for five pound till this is gone; and yet I send every day to the coffee-house, and I would fain have a letter, and not have a letter: and I don't know what, nor I don't know how; 'tis a week to-morrow since I began it. I am a poor country gentleman, and don't know how the world passes. Do you know that every syllable I write I hold my lips just for all the world as if I were talking in our own little language to MD. Faith, I am very silly; but I can't help it for my life. I got home early to-night. My solicitors, that used to ply me every morning, knew not where to find me; and I am so happy not to hear Patrick, Patrick, called a hundred times every morning. But I looked backward, and find I have said this before. What care I? go to the dean,

and roast the oranges.

ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE

ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. Born in London, April 5, 1837; died April 10, 1909. Author of "Poems and Ballads," "A Song of Italy," "Songs before Sunrise," "Songs of the Springtides," "Songs of Two Nations," "Studies in Song," "A Century of Roundels," "Marino Faliero,” "Lochrine," "Tristram of Lyonesse," "A Study of Ben Jonson," "A Study of Victor Hugo."

Swinburne's sea poems are especially distinctive and unique. The headlands and the coast, the ocean winds free and untamable, the voice of the breaking sea, and its flying foam, all appear in his harmonious and delicate

verse.

A LEAVE-TAKING

LET us go hence, my songs; she will not hear.
Let us go hence without fear;

Keep silence now, for singing-time is over,
And over all old things and all things dear.
She loves not you nor me as all we love her.
Yea, though we sang as angels in her ear,
She would not hear.

Let us rise up and part; she will not know.
Let us go seaward as the great winds go,

Full of blown sand and foam; what help is here?
There is no help, for all these things are so,

And all the world is bitter as a tear.

And how these things are, though ye strove to show,
She would not know.

Let us go home and hence; she will not weep.
We gave love many dreams and days to keep,
Flowers without scent, and fruits that would not grow,
Saying, "If thou wilt, thrust in thy sickle and reap."
All is reaped now; no grass is left to mow;
And we that sowed, though all we fell on sleep,

She would not weep.