For the Ner.Yo.k K Tribune.

TO COUSIN MARIA.
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TO COT SIN MAhlA-


De. 17il.
WHAT doubt one is in to know where te begin
To discourse poetic epistle,
When the Present and Past from the first to the last
Fly together like.brds at whistle.
As it were, in one page from our youth TO or age
All the story of life strangely blended
The Illusions the cares, the enchantments the snafss
Through which We have YEARLY wended
Ii i, nothing to send few lines to friend,
By the Post, on a common occasion;
And a pink bilIetdo is small matter too
With its sweet-.cen,ed words of persuasion
But to write as much will pay the expense
Of the time and the light Of : taper,
Is another affair. and is certainly rare


Among all the things upon paper
When nv sweet, pretty cousin demanded dozen
Brief lines, in the way of sonnet,
Though little she knew it. my heart wePt to do it
For thoughts of my youth were upon it;
A sad rerospection of early Affection
OF Joys of my youths cloudless morning
or many warn.hesrled, now cold departed
DARK changes that came without warning
When to school Ger the heather we journeyed to.


gether,


Or roved in the meadow, beguiling
Our holiday hour, in gathering flowers,
While the sweet summertime smiling
rs sister and brother VIC to each other;
AS lovers, whom nought could disseyer;
Nor doomed that that feeling, ere long would be


stealing


Away, Ike meteor-for ever
And now to remember, as frosty December
Comes bristling along in his ire,
How we cheated the season, so out OF all reason,
With our gee by the cracking fire
IT were joyously pleasant to look from the present
Far back Oh those days of gadness; Them,
But none can restore theIn-dark shadows are Ger
And Memory sinks in sadness.
Nor augh, have better fill up the letter
For Life is a round of sorrow:
Earth hath not the treasure to purchase pleasure
Today, that viii las, till the morrow, ting,
E'en while we are quaiing joys nectar, and laugh
Were the hearts deep chambers Lighted,
Mrths mcrriest lover belize would discover
The garden of Peace all blghted
Yet what is Lies trouble a fnble-a bubble,
Unreal, or soon to vanish;
A cloud a mountains mist Der fountain,
Which the first beam of will Danish
There comcth an hour of baluiest power,
When the dreariest gloom shall be driven,
And the spirit shall leey, yet calmly and sweetly,
Go up TO lis in heaven.
The years, in their rolling thus whisper consoling;
And deep though they leave their traces
Bearing oil the fresh roses where Beauty reposes
While the burrows of Time take their places
Tho thus they pursue they shall not subdue US
But when the long strife shall have ended,
We II smile DER the cares the enchaulment, the


snares


Through which we have weary wended


ISLANDER.