From the New-Haven Iournall
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SONNETS. O! Evening, have loved thee with joy Tender and pure, and thou hast ever been soother of my sorrows. When boy l wandered often to a lonely glen, And far from all the stir and noise of men, Held fond communion with uaearthly things, s.,ch as come gathering brightly round us, when Imagination scars and shakes her wings. Yes, in that secret valley, doubly dear For all it's natural beauty, and the hush That ever brooded OCT it, I would lay My thoughts in deepest calm-and if a bush Hustled, or small bird shook the beechen spray, There seemed ministerng angel whispering near.

 P. o! would that dreams were not the things they are Mere unsubsantial pageants, born and dying With the light sleep that makes them, coming flying Like evening clouds, how beautiful and fair! o! they are thinner than the empty air, And yet how blessed, when they bend and sme- How the heart flows away in raptures, while, Dear, fond illusions, they are lingering there! They have touch and voice-That bosom,s sw elling With young world ofjoys, how softly heaves; It lifts its gauzy veil, like featlery leaves Waved lightly o'er Yemen's paImy dwelling, A higher bliss than even Hope believes, To the fx'd eye of slumbering fondness telling.