Litchfield enquirer., 1857-04-23

Dear name first breathed in Paradise,
 And warbled down the rosy air And waited through the stainless skies,
 And up the silver vault, to where The heavenly splendors burn and glow Around the 1riune Mystery Inc CT, in mortal time may know
 The sweetness that is hid in thee. On all the hills OCT which the wind
 Rolls with it's thousand harping sound, Is net so sweet d cadence shlincd,
 Is not so rich a music found As in that single, holy namo
 Of |" wife" first breathed by angels lips, Ere they. with eyes of golden flame,
 Bcheld the night of Sins eclipse In tears and pain and biightlng dew, Fall cold around the Primal Two. Dear is the name of '' friend to those Who sail this bleak tenpestuous sea Of Human Life, while keenly blows
 The gale of black Advcrsity, And sweetly up the gulf of years
 Returns the holy accent = mother, And sister charms our childish fears, And manly is the sound my brother ;'' Yet yet I know u sound us sweet,. With heavenly music more cumpicte- And richer than the golden song
 Of birds upon the gate of dawn, While glancing wings the branches throng, And June trips with her roses on,
  That binds us to some kindred heartj b not the iorly shout that swells
 From the green hills of earth to heaven, And in itssweeping triumph tells
 The fcttels from a nation rivcn, Not marriage bells or tluting breeze
 That roves through May enchanted ground, Nor music poured U CT moon-lit seas,
 While misty rocks give back the sound- All all have not a tone to me So fraught with glorious melody, So moulded and attuncd to be
 A link between our souls and Him
 Who is the Life, the Truth, the Love, And round whose throne the listening worlds In high, melodious order move. Dear, golden sound how ali thou stained By hearts corrupt and lips unclcan! The glory from thy soul hath haned-
 Ofl Hath thy snowy vesturc been 1railed in the patti of common dust, And cradlcd in the arms of lust. My wife Eath trcmbled from the red . And rocking lips of him whose thought Ne'er scared above the miry bed
 Where the dull swine lies down to rot; And the hoarse libertinc hath drunk
 In mauclin triumph to that name, Which in his blightcd soul hath sunk
 Still deeper the hot brand of shame. 0 welded Love 0 symbol bright
 Of that most holy, deathless tic Which links the chosen sons of light r
 To Him who choose for them to die ! May lie whose soul ne'er rose above
 The misers dust, a brute's desire, Through Loves green paths Nf myrtle rove, , Or to his pearly heights aspire, Or breathe the sacred balm that springs Like incense from his silver wings' No let hip, wear his crown of dust, His purest love is gilded lust. Ny gentle MMife, I sometimes fear
 That Heaven hath poured too large good On one so frail and vile as I, . To feed me thus on angels food, And drench me in the rosy wine Of love so pure and deep as thina And we'll know, fearful thing 1t is, to Win a human heart Around our own to twine and cling
 With strength which only death can part. Cheeks have seen more like the rose,
 And forms more delicate to view, And foreheads more like mountain shows;
 And locks that glanced a brighter hue, And yet, of high or lowly birth On all our green and lovely earth, There's not a lip that shames the rose Not brow, though like the Alpine SHOWS, And bound with half the diadems
 Snatchcd from the deep, relentless sea, There not form, though locked in gems,
 Half half so beautiful to me As that dear eye and brow of thine, Because thy woman's heart is mine. Afar from thee, beloved one,
 I still thy calm, sweet face can see, And O CT the distance wide and lone, My thoughts fly yearning back to thee, Like some lost bird that seeks her nest, While night is breeding OCT the west. 0 come to me! the woods are sere
 On Housatonics regal hills, Yet the bright robins note hear,
 And Spring hath loosed the shouting rills Soon. soon the cloyer-sandalled May Her cheek upon the buds will lay, And every bough and turf shall be 4 temple and shrine to thee, Aud bid the gentle stranger hail To velvet bank and messy vale.
 New Preston, March 30.
 Time keeps his constant pace, and flies fast in idleness as in employ.
 While we are executing one work, we preparing ourselves to undertake another. Vague, injurious reports are no mems i but all men's carelessness.
 The longer the saw of contcnt;nn is dra,