New-York daily tribune. [volume] (New-York [N.Y.]) 1842-1866, 1852-01-26

The sky Is black the earth Is cold
The la50rng moon gives iiue light,
Wild gusts m ghostly tones unfold
The secrets OF the deep dread night,
And ehmmering round and round ne. glide
Neir1 fancle> of the midnight born,
C.Ose-llnket with ShalOwY SpTlteS that rlds
The dusAy hours OF eve and morn.
Gaunt images, that haunt the sight,
OF SIN and crime, and want and woe,
Have been my guests for hours to night,
And Slil are passing To and iro.
Al. wel-a-way and SO they may
They DO not te he he Of life
Night OK IS truer than the day.
Peace often a'ser far than strife
\ year goes out. year comes in:
How swiftly and how still they fee
What mission had the year that's beenf
What mission hath the year to be
Oh brother msn look wisely back,
Along the far and fading days,
And closely scan the crowded track
On which the light OF memory plays.
The friend with whom You took your wine
4 year ago-where Is he now
The child YOU almost thought divine,
Such beauty ROBBED its shining brow
The wife upon whose pIllowlng breast
Misleading doubts aud carklng care
Were ever gently luled to rest
Where are they now, my brOther-where
In vain you start, and look around
In vain the involuntary call
The gravc-y ard has an added mound
For wife, or child, or frend-os all
And downward 10 the dust with them,
How many garnered hopes have gone,
Yet they were those ye thought TO stem
The tide OF time with, pressing on.
All. hope is such hattering cheat,
We scarce can choose but him believe,
We see and feel his bold deceit,
Yet trust him still. to S.lll deceive.
Despair Is truer Tar than he
Though dark and pllleSs It's form,
II never bids US look, and see
The sunshine, whenit brings the storm.
NOn shivering wretch va see, year
Ago asked aims, the which gave.
She said the world was dark, and drear,
And cold, yet kindlior than the grave.
She hoped anOthcryear would bring
JOYS. comforts. friends not then possessed ::
And 1t has brought yon feeble thing
That tugs 50 at her shrunken breast.
"Oh, Cod" she mutter, In my dream
Last night the wild waves DER me swept -
To-day stood beside the stream,
But faltercd. Would that had leapt
But In It's sleep my baby smiled
/ loved my chIld-my brain was wild
From death to life ! turn'd and flew.
Why ended not our sOrrows then
Why sleep we not beneath the waye'
Forgot Of God, despised OF men,
That were, methlnks, fitting grave 80.
AHA aha The night Is cold
Night and my baby-look here-are one :
We cannot warm this stlllened form
With all your skill: It's done It's done =
"The night is cold--the night is dark
And | am sister 10 the night.
Pm cold and dark-but hist and bark
And look and see "a sound a sight
It's well tis well -yc hear the knell
OF the old year from yOn high tower;
But not for We the sight see
IIa ha h. burns Ia he'll this hour ="
The wind is wild that howls without:
The fire IS warm that burns within,
But wilder than he wind without,
And warn CT than the fire within,
Are breast and brain that throb with pain
Where that poor ravlng wretch is borne:
But ere the day she 1t pass away,
With few TO watch, and none 10 mourn.
Oh, bitter night oh, cruel wind.
That piercest hoyels through and through,
The festive band We rarely find
The poor aSe always found by you.
n thIHnestgarD: for dOubiy bold
Temptation is "a enter Ia
Where hunger knaws, aud limbs are cold.
The eve is gone nights noon is here:
Again 81 y0n nigh turret swings
Times iron tongue, that tells the year
Is closing over earthly things.
Farewell old year have no tear
To drop above your icy tomb
We brou hit TO me much misery,
And leave me now IN deepest gloom.
Farewell old year yet by your bier
lnger, If | Will or no.
For sorrow tends to link as friends
Those who had hardly else been 50.
How often back, along the track
Which YOU and have wearIy traced.
NV bleeding heart will sadly start
TO view again that desert waste
"A.hal old year you've brought the tear.
In spite Of all thought or said:
| did not know one still could flow,
SO many YOU have made me shed. dark.
You're still and stark you're gone "...'Fs
Here where sit and sigh alone.
But wipe the eye-aDd check the sigh
What 5 he, who hath not sorrow KNOWN
Despair may truer be than Hope
Bot Hope is mlghtIer tar than he
As rounding up yon starless cope
Even now TO HfOrTOWs syn
% rfUpr UrIngs udy before us odJ,
And antedates a word or deed,
Or thought, that shall be felt for aye,
And heip Us IN our sorest need.
All, Hope is tTuer than Despair
What says the iron tongue OF time
From yon old tuuet, high IN air,
Pealing the centuries march sublime.
Con GIVES TO MAN ANOTHER YEAR,
WITH HOPE HIS FRIEND " Bereaved one.
Uncloud the brow, dry up the tear,
Joy cometh with the moHow's sun
FIRE IN NEWARK, n. About 0 o'clock
L.. IN In afahLa haIanR,lx