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POEMS.
Like this kindly season may life's decline come o'er me; Past is manhood's summer, the frosty months are here;Yet be genial airs and a pleasant sunshine left me, Leaf, and fruit, and blossom, to mark the closing year.
Dreary is the time when the flowers of earth are withered; Dreary is the time when the woodland leaves are cast,When, upon the hillside, all hardened into iron, Howling, like a wolf, flies the famished northern blast.
Dreary are the years when the eye can look no longer With delight on nature, or hope on human kind;