FOR THE LlTcHFIELD RNQuIREn. MISS T.. M-
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DIEn, ocLocK, F. M sEPT. BOTH.

 Ye mourn not as they which have no hope. SCripsurc The leaf of Autumn frightened to its fall, As if the verdure like dying flame Flashed brighter eer it left us-or as if The weary spirit of the dying leaf Drew near its glorious land of rest. and, Catching color from its flood of light. Beamed a strange glory OCT it's tenement To emblem the departure fthe just. The sun was low-shedding its parting beams- O, twas the time to die ! and with such hopes To pillow the tired heart, as waited thee, Who would not sink to rest? And thou didst rest {; Fen as the sun, whose fading rays promised Another rising. Fen as the verdure, Thou didst die to bloom again. We see thee, with the spirit eye of faith, An angel now: and shall we mourn thee7 Yes. If we would mourn when the bound chrysalis Flung out it's gorgeous wing, and buoyantly Floated away from its imprisonment- Or, when the clear sun left the horizon, And rejoicingly. mounted the skies. The ear Will listen with longing for thy voice. The eye will search where thou vast wont to move And search-till the tear starts, but will it flow For thee, filling thy place in heaven? Nay, But for the void which thou hast left on earth And thus it is holy thing to mourn.