PoETR Y.

THE PAST
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BY I. C. TuprER, Ese The past, the dim, the dreamy past, Of imagery and shade In monrnful silence sleeps at last unbToken by parade; And there, without one fuIgent ray To tinge the darksome tomb, Il slumbers in sublime decay

 And melancholy gloom. Thepa o God the mighty past. So desolate and bleak, Resembles much the thunder-blast Round Juras lofty peall,-- And, OCT the wreck of early crime, Or pToVidential seath, Hangs boding frowning and sublime With lightning and with wrath. The broken fragments of the past Now rest in chill repose, Like pillared grandeur, downward cast By time or leagur'd toes,-- And, one by one, as time pursues His devastating flight, hey lose the briliance of their hues And hasten back to night 0 what can pierce that dread profound Of visionary schemes. And bring to view the mystic ground Of infancy and dreams; Or backward turn the the tide of years or pleasure and of pain, Till all the past of hopes and fears Is realized again. Alas the freaks of sportive youth, The tinge of early bliss, The virgin VOW of holy truth

 Repose in that abyss; And there, tho thnnders shake the pole, And stir the mighty deep, Beyond the pale of mans control They must forever sleep.  But, like q shade from sprit-land That stalks among the dead, Remembrance with her iitful brand And hesitating tread, Steals slowly up the path of time And common way of care, To view again the home and cline The past had buried there. Tho backward on the path of years She throws her doubtful light. And, link by link, from signs to tears, Pursues her upward flight; Yet feeble is her modest ray

 And indistinct her beam, That here and there can touch and play, But leaves the rest dream. Now, haughtremains save mem'ry's elow Of all the mystic past, For darkness pals that land of wo, Of tempest and of blast ;- Then, then adieu, thou land of dread, Of solitude and gloom; Thou, slumb'Fest with the mighty dead In one eternal tomb WASHINGTON, ARK's. [1eiegrapb