POETRY
... P 0 E TRY. SOMETHING LEFT UNDONE. BY LO5GitELOW.* Labour with what zeal we will, Solmoethitg still remains undone, Something, uscompleted still, Woits tho rising of tils sun. By the bedside, on the stair, At tho threshold, near the gates, With its mesace or its prayer, Like a mendieant it waits; Waits, masd will not go away,- Waits, and will not be gainsaid. By the sores of yesterday Each to ...