WETUMPKA, ALA, SEPTEMBER 21, ls47

From the N. o.'Picayune. 1
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 The spirit which conceived the fol- lowing beautiful stanzas has taken it's flight. They have often appeared in the journals of ihe country, but we have thought it suitable 10 republish them in the number of our paper in which is an, nounced the death of the author: NAV Life is like the Summer Rose.

 BY RICHARD HENRY WILDE. My life is like the summer rose

 That opens to the morning sky, But ere tie shades of evening close,

 Is scattered on the ground-to die! Yet on the rose's humble head

 I he sweetest dews oi night are shed, As she wept the waste to sec

 But none shall weep tear for me! My life is like the autumn leaf

 That trembles in the moons pale ray, It's hold is frail-its date is brief,

 Restless aud soon 10 pass away! Yet ere that tree shall fall and fade,

 The parent tree will mourn it's shade, The winds bewail the leahess tree,

 But none shall breathe sigh for me My life is like the prints which feet

 Have left on Tampa's desert strand- Soon as the rising tide shall beat,

 All trace will vanish from the sand; Yet. as if grievlng 10 efface

 All vestiee of the human race,

 On that lone shore loud mourns the sea-, But none alas. shall mourn for m! !