POETRY.

From the Nes0- Fork Americ0H.
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'Twas nothing that her simplest smile was worth A serapll's brighiness-nOlhiRg that her eye, Or rolling bright or brightly calm, gave DIr'" To all the freshness Ofiiie's morning sky: ;, The blight that associates the household hear'm Came o'er her. and she knew that she mns' n'e,

 hen she bowed her gentle head beneatn .nG .""" hch laid, at once, earih's hope anu "e''1 'O"' Aud her pure cheek grew cold ana fo dart,Y S, pale As snows by mountain caveFns hid """ ""S It was as if a shadow Ofthe vale

 Ofdcath had fallen her living clay. And waited, ere all hold op earth should t"''' To fit her sOuI to walk thtt gloomy way Which galher'd round to darken Der her tomb. Some,imes-as f she kindled at the art Ofhi,n who eubtly wood her--a warm flame That fr'd anew each chiti and palhd part With vital lus,re, gliding through her frame. Yet, drop by drop, life left her weary heart, Til!' failing ike springiess fount, she came To human nolhngness-a faded flower That knew world to bloom upon DO more. E. L..