POEI'R ".
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The following extract from Mir. Wetmore's re gently published volume entit ed Lexington, with other fugitive poems, IS worthy Of the pen ct the author. It breathes the true inspiration of poetry REMEMBERED MUSIC.--By P. M. wETMoRE.

 The music we were wont to love,

 In days of bliss gone by,

 la after years the soul can move,

 Almost to agony. There was song Tloyed to hear In boyhood's happy hours; Twas sweet as bird note carrolled near, Or voice frem the developed flowers, 1t was a witching melody,

 Like tiie music of dream, Or the sound Of distant minstrelsy Heard o'er summer stream. But when the sunny years flew by, And cares were closing round When the flowers that smiled to the April sky ], Lay dead on the summer ground; An, then the warblng of that song, With deeper thrillings came, For they wakened burning thoughts, that long Had slept like hidden flame. Still from the heart 3 tone replies Unto that nusic,s spell, As answering echoes mournful rise Around the matin bell: The sabbath vesper chime will cease, It's sound be hlish'd at last; But ne erscan come the bosoms peace Till it forgets the past. Oh, deeply still, this heart of mine Responds that melting strain; As Eoan strings at day decline, To night-winds wake again: The harp will sigh to zephyrs kiss, Till all it's chords decay; And that song will call back thoughts of bliss, Til memory fades away!