POETR ".

From the Boston Pearl. SONG OF THE WINDS. BY THOMAS GREGG.

THE STORM.
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come, come-with power and might, On swiftest pinions, in endless flight

 My form l shroud

 In the murky cloud,

 And o'er the deep

 In fury l sweep, And man with his boasted strength is weak, When in my loudest fury speak:

 fell the tower

 And rend the oak,

 That withstood the power

 Of the lghtning's stroke And stream, and flood, and forest, and field, To the strength ofmy mighty will must yield; But whence come--or where go, 'Tis not for dwellers on earth to know.