PoETRY.

From the Connecticut Jos''nat.
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 {, Strike, strike the note of sorrow, sa That late 30 moved me- My sinking heart would borrow, From sounds so passing sweet, Fond moments once so feet Beside the youth who loved me. O! set the music flowing My soul forever

 Could dwell on words 50 glowing, On sounds so soft and clear, To all my heart 80 dear, They can be silen,Snever. Give me the mte--the lute, For would ring it. O! breathe that Spartan flute, And wake my languid soul, Till loosed from Earth's control, HeaveM'sfre shall wing it. No! touch the chord of feeling, And lightly wake it; Aud ~s hear. come stealing From out my bleeding heart Tears, such as woes mpar-- Be still, or else ye break it. PERcivAL,

 WHAT AM |? My first and last transposed, are still Insoundand sense the same; OfbalEwhipped truant's low complaint ts I constitute the name; But backward read, an, tho cause of fmany weeping eye, And broken heart, and orphan tear-- The drunkard's daily cry.