[From the Knickerbocker.] THE SEASONS oE DAY.
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Iris Morn The Persian's God, From the halls where he reposes,

 Hath sent his Herald beams before, f pave his pat; .s,ssith roses;

 And round the gates of Day, In a sea of glory laying,

 The clouds like ruddy banners play, Der conquered Darkness waving.

 The flowers their lips of leaves, Where the perfumed dews are elinging,

 Are parting to receive his kiss,- The birds his hymn are singing.

 He comes Through nights pale tears, Lo! his kindling beams he sendeth,

 And with ten thousand, thousand spears Oflight, the vapors rendeth.