POETRY.

FOR THE ENQUIRER.

 SONG.
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 SONG.

 Air" Of iH the sally nigEs." Swift as an April cloud,

 The days have flown forever Death weayes his wintry shroGd, And Spring will blOOm-ah! aeYer. The days oflight, when all was bright, And Hupe's bright flowers emthraird me, Return no more, to gid tie shore, Where no deep gloom appaTd me. The friends once have known, Have to their graves departed, And here weep alone,

 Like one that's brok en- hearted. The eyes of love, that ne'er would prove, More than meteor beamng, On Iife's young morn, have lurn'd to scorn, And chaUg'd my fancy's dreaming. TITus, like an April cloud,

 My joys have fled forever, Death soon will weave his shroud, And Spring return--ah never. Still, in the rest of earth's cold breast, s- The thoughts fondly cherish, Like twilight's gleam, more sweeiIy beam, Though all life's verdure perish. W.