THE TREE OF DEATH.

BY ELIZA COOK.
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BY ELIZA COOK
Let the king Of the grave be asked TO tell
The plant he loveth best,
Aud II will not be the cypress tree,


Though 'tis ever the churchard guest;
He will not mark the hemIock dark


Nor stay where the night shade spreads
He will not say 'tis the sombre yew,


Though it spreads o'er the skeletons heads;
He will not point TO the willow branch.
Where breaking spirits pine beneath.
For brighter leaf sheds deeper grief,
And fairer tree is the Tree Of Death.
But where the green rich stocks are seen,
Where ripe fruits gush and shine.
"This, this, J" cries he, ssis the tree for me
The vine, the beautiful vine;
| crouch among the emerald leaves,


Gemmed with the rubby grapes;
dip my spear in the poison here,


And he is strong that escapes"
Crowds dance round, with satyr bound,
Till my dart is hurled from its traitor sheath;
When shrek with glee no friend to me,
Is SO true as the vine, the Tree Of Death.
0 the glossy vine has serpent charm,


II bears an unblest fruit
There's faint upon each tendrill'd arm,
And curse upon It's root;
Its juice may flow TO warm the brow,
And wildly tighten the eve,
But the frenzied mirth of reyeling crew
Will make the wise man sigh;
For The maniac laugh, the trembling frame.
The idiot speech and pesiilent breath,
The shattered mind and blasted frame,
Are wrought by the vine, the Tree of De.Nh.
Fill, fill the glass and let il pass;


But we who quaff, o think
Thateyen the heart that loves must loathe
The lips that deeply drink;
The breast may mourn o'er close link torn,
And the scaldlng drops may roll;
But Ills better to mourn o'er pulseless form
Than the wreck OF living soul.
Then health 10 the hemlock, the cypress and
yew, En4El s.
The worm hiding grass and the willow
wreath,
For though shading the tomb, they fling not a
gloom t


So dark as the vine, the Tree of Death.


SALE OF OLD BACHELORS
| dream'd dream, in the midst Of my slum-
And as fast as dream'd, il was coin'd into
My thought ran along in such beautiful me-
Pm sure ne'er saw any poetry sweeter
II seemed that law had been recently made
That tax on old bachelors pate should be


laid;


And in order TO make them all willing to mar
The tax was as large as man could we'll car
The bachelors grumbled, and said 'lwere no


use,
'Twas horrid injustice and horrid abuse;-
And declared, that to save their own hearts


blood from spilng,
Ofsuch vile tax they would meier pay shil-
But the rulers determined their skill to pur-


sue,
So they set the old bachelors up at vendue
A crier was sent through the town 10 and


fro,
To rattle his bell and his trumpet to blow;
And to call out 10 all he might meet in the


way,
" Ho ! forty old bachelors sold here TO day.
And presently all the old maids of the town,
Each one in her very best bonnet and


gown,
Erom thirty to sixty, falr, PLAIN, red, ana


pale,
OF every description all hocked 10 The sale.
The auctioneer then in his labor began
And calpd ont aloud as he held up a man,
:. How much for bacheIor--who wants to


buy 2"
In twink every maiden responded Ell





In short, at a hugely extravagant price,
The bachelors all were sold off in trice.
And forty old maidens--some younger, some


older,
Each lugged an old bachelor home on her


shoulder,