POETRY.

FROM THE LADY's BOOK.

 WINTER.
WINTER. | come, come, for the year s Old' The fields have dofFed their mantle Ofgold, And tilting down from the shaking tree, The blushing leaf falls whiFlingly. Droops to old Ocean the weary Sun. Ere the last Of his radiant course is run; And the early shadows of evening gray Close the bright round of the shortened day. come, with my snOw-Aake, spotless white, With my frosty chain for the waters bright, With my penda0ss of diamond for bush and tree, And the cricket chirpng 90 cheerily. come with the shout of the festive thrOMg, With the merry VAle and tho Christmas song, With the laugh of the young as the stocking pours The torrent rich of its sugared stores. peep through the pane at the blazing hearth, Atthe smile of age, and at childhOod's mirth; At the growing babe, the applauding sire, The stsaming urn, and cheerful 6re- At the blushing maid and the happy swain, Seated apart from the merry scene,

 While sof as the coo ofthe amorous dove, Their whispered breathings tell oi love. lam come with my mantle of tsathery snow, And breathe on the chilly pane as I go, Till ruined tower and icy tree

 On the frosted window tell of me.

 But the whole of my fairy work is done,

 When from his bright chariot the blessed Sun Casts his warm gances on ri and brae,

 Till the glalsome waters burst away. Then buds the young leaAet, the gay birds s'ng, Earth dons her green mantle to welcome Spring; Young Zephyr on fowery sweets reposes, And wild bees sport md the newborn roses.