POETRY.

FOR TH1 ENQUIRER. MY BIRTHDAY.
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 -" The life of man

 H. K. 7tVhits. uCount Der the joys thine hours have seen. Count o'er thy days from anguish free, Andsknow, whatever thou hast been,

 Iris something better not 10 be. Byron. A Birth. Day !-'t is mOurBful theme

 To one whose hopes are fled; Whose spirit, in a clOuded dream,

 Lies desolate and dead. There is a. smile on every brow. And cheek, and lip, that passes now,

 As if no grief had shed It's blight upon life's fairest flowers Its cloud upon life's sweetest hours. They tell me ofHope's music lay, ~

 By seraph voices sung; They tell inc of Loves sunlight ray,

 On Eden-spirits flung. Oh! did they know, as have known.q How music hath an under-sone,

 How hearts with love are stwng, They would not praise Hopes syren lay; They would not praise Loves lightning ray. They say have careless heart,

 A spiriswild and high, Where yearning anguish hath no part,

 Where sorrow hath no sigh. Oh! did they know how deep apain On bursting heart and burning bran,,

 Meath careless sm.iles may lie; They would not call 1sv spirit bless'd; They would not say my heart had rest. For have learn'd to veil my woe

 With joyous smiles and free, And would not that the world should know How deep that woe may be. would not that the crowd I scorD, The weight of grief my heart hath borne. With careless eyes should see i: Or ifthey felt, I i'll could brook The coldness of pitying look. Departed year! Icannot weep That thy dark hours have fled; Thon'sl left my heart no foscsr to keep. No token save the DEAD. These were thy gifts-a cioud-a 6isr- 4 wikhsying he0r-a 6arming lear, Der blighted hope-buds shed. And can weep that thou art pass'd, My loneliest year-perchance my LAsr7 May 8, 1882. SEDLEY.