For the Indiana STATE Sentinel.
The Lament Of Werfer.
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Yes her spirit still walks in the light Of the day;


Her Illusion bewilders-fbe form Of a dream
Have those moments, so bSsful, now faded away


Like the tone Of song a leap from the stream
Der my pillow in sorrow has wept that dark eye,


Then the ii was death-ke-my hesrthroo was still
As the kiss Of the sun TO a blue summer sky,


Or the night-Iobe Of beauty when yelling the hill.
Twas that soft breath Love that tire had betrayed
But the day full of sunshine and calm has shade.


And that Eden OF bss-Our gay happiness then.
50 like heart-bToken sighs TO the moan of the wind
Though the pang Of regret may recall them again,
Yet a bright CLEAN of pleasure still fingers behind.


EIe those lips of devotion forever sealed,
May the last breath of feeling breathe and love,


Like the ghlnng red glare through the ten pest revealed
Der the stream Of is bliss from above.


the wdness of bliss, and my agOny's hour,


Then my heart entTanced by the spell of .hy power
How that Jore-phrensed eye endeafed to my soul,


Then the low, that now madAens nv heart 10 the core
When those fond words Of parting breast could eonos
Was pleasure uniell By my buSom before.
The voice that dear Nature calls forth in the m'In,


With the caIOl uf birds and the sweetness of h5werss
Are emblems Of beauiy-oi hopes that ale born


the of the heavens aud the ints OF the hours.
The morning may bloum, and the sunset expire,


But thai kindness that soens and sweeten the heart,
In the course Of my passion but traces 10 NE,


What the smiles from thy brow would make ever depart
Oh lorg nights filed with recalling the kOsss,
When the Iose on that lip, ana the fash from that eye
With thy footsteps light as the birds IN the bowers,


Bcguiliug with visions the days as Ia. y fy,
Now stream the heart Ike the hre fiom tile sun
Has sorrows mute tale with us eloquenee won


All! why should the error Of goodness be thine :
O'eT the stream Of Thy quiet the wave OF a sigh


Have exquisite music passion divine
beacons faint aash through the storm Of that eye


One pang-he fixed eye-the pulse faintng-and all
When the sad soul is full il breathes out in it,


Then these relics decay. and The k ell and the pail
Are the aves that roll o'er-of forgefulness long.


The winds they Wild, not star 5 in the ky,
And wild tale Of terror The tempest may tell,


With frown on its brow in is wrath passing By,
The green knoll > my grave-hsrk my funeral kne


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