Should the soft spring breath of kindly appreciation warm the current chilly atmosphere, flowers of greater luxuriance and beauty soon blossom forth, to beautify and enrich our literature. If these anticipations are not realized, it will not be because there is anything is our country that is uncongenial to poetry. If we are deprived of many of the advantages of the older countries, our youthful country provides ample compensation not only in the ways in which nature unveils her most majestic forms to exalt and inspire, but also in our unshackled freedom of thought and broad spheres of action. Despite the unpropitious circumstances that exist, some true poetry has been written is our country, and represents an earnest of better things for the future and basis to hop that it will not always be winter with our native poetry. Poetry, like truth, will unveil her beauty and dispense her honour only to those who love her with a deep and reverential affection. There are many who are not gifted with the power of giving expressions to the deeper sensibilities who nevertheless experience them throbbing in their hearts. To then poetry appeals.