POETRY.
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We are indebted to the kindness of fair young friend, for this welcome contribution to the "Banner.n In return, we tender her our sincere hope that the sadness of these touching lines may never fall upon her buoy ant heart-our earnest prayer that she may nercr lose c friend.

 THE LOST FRIEND.

 BY MISS E. T. FIELD. Where art thou now methinks the morning brow Shines with less splendor on the joyous earth, Since thy lovd voice, fraught with affections power Hath ceased to cheer me with its tone of mirth Where art thou many voices meet mine ear, And careless strangers coldly on me gaze; And all that my young spirit held most dear, Have left me in misfortune's widest maze. Where art thou dimly OCT the waste of thought Comes the deep tear of sorrow to mine eye; And mournful feelings, from reflection brought, Come OCT me like the autumn's mourning sigh. Where art thou? one by one, from me have gone, The hearts best treasures in its earthly love; And those the last whose smile could light me on Could'st thou, thus coldly, feelings anguish prove Where art thou when the light of joy is round, Memory oft stirs the slumb' ring tide of grief; And in the low sad strain of musc's sound, The wounded spirit vainly seeks relief. Where art thou now high in the heavens above, Dark clouds are gathering round the orb of day; And morn's bright glory, like earth's early love, Hath, as burning meteor, pass'd away