POETRY.

FOR THE EEQUIRER.

TO
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Why loiter near lhy bane alas iO breathe A moments space where every breeze is death; Death to thy future peace. Shenstone. Lady! year ago, when grief

 Had wi,her'd from Iiie's path the flowers, And left not for my heart one leaf

 Of the high hopes of happier hours, To cheer and cherish: and alone

 stood amid earth's fading things, A bIighted being with the :One-

 That agony's dark Pinion brings From aught of earth, the sky, the air, Mocking my spirits deep despair, Without hope in joy to fling One sunbeam from its rainbow wing; Without voice from earth or sky, To which my rent heart could reply, Save the low echo of sigh,

 Flung back from Nishi's unOlonded wings: And with spirit how'd and bent

 Before the whrlwind path of death, And an unwhisper'd yearning sent

 Up through the sapphire, with each breath Ofthe low wind, 'mid blight and bloom, For that dark resting place-a tomb. Lady did not, could not deem

 year ago that love would fling The witchings of its rainbow dream

 Upon lny spirits dropping wing. could not think-for oh my fate Seem'd like the lone bird, desolate, Amid springs spells O'er earth and sky, My only prayer that might die- My only hope that might be A nothing in eternity. did no, think that joy could come Fen for moment from its home In the far sapphire's light and bloom, To cheer the darkness of the tomb. The fever throb had lei my brain,

 A s,ar-beam gl,,ered in the sky, The wild birds warble caugh, a strain

 Ofscarce remember'd melody. And to my heart came back, all free, The bright dreams ofmy infancy The sunlight hope-the high thought sent Up through the gorgeous element, As ifto hold communion there With the freed spirits of the air. For had seen thy angel brow lov'd thee MeR--I love thee notc. But let it pass-I have known'all The bright flowers of love's coronal; And to my heart-oh! fearf Iy true Each blossom had its cGnker too. But let il pass the low winds moan Sighs wildly o'er the funeral stone; And a still voice is in the air, AS the nights mary eis gaIirI tberet And darkness o'er my burning brow

 Hath mutter'd it's untimeiy spell: have one. whisper for thee now;

 Lady 'tis my last word-Fare,ceH!

 SEnIRY.