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From the New York Evening Mirror.


I am weak and I'm strong, I kill and I cure,
I give to the heathen grace free and pure;
I wedlock dissolve, steal many a child,

To myriads give life, am roving and wild.
I'm in rivers, streams, brooks, d glittering rill,
I float on the Ganges, bring grist to the mill;
1 laugh, leap and sing, sometimes I am bad,
Immortal in heaven, but in hell can't be had.
I am blue, red and green, whole acres I fill.
I am hot and I'm cold, none can alter my will:
I'm in forests and gardens, where spring blossoms blow,
In summer's warm bowers, and winter's cold snow.

I perfume the roses, and scent the fresh air,
The rainbow without me, no colors could wear;
1 am found in the clouds, in the depth of the sea,
I robe the green meadow and flower the lea.
The sun's glory would fade, he no joy could impart,
If I did not aid him, to gladden the heart;
I'm the painter's delight, the poet's wild theme,
Before creation I was, yet in Eden did gleam.
I am fluid and solid, I'm soft and I'm hard,
I am white and I'm black, I haste and retard;
I'm a cordial, a medium, of more value than gold,
My weight in Sahara, for jewels is sold.
Yet I flourish as pure under poverty's wall,
As in royalty's palace, in mosaic hall
Without me no lady her toilet could make,
Without me strong hearts, with privation would break.
Without me all nature would languish and sigh,
Yet I'm seen in the sparkle of Emma's blue eye;
I'm called iron, sulphur, steel and gas,


I'm living and dead, I am sometimes a glass.
I'm pendent, flat, square, oblong and round,
All over the world my footsteps are found;
I'm distasteful to many, yet nectar to some,
Ambrosia to others when hard as a drum.
I'm on top of the mountain, low down in the vale,
I sing in the concert with ocean's rude gale;
Rapid and slow, a blessing, a sorrow,
Welcome, unwelcome, to lend or to borrow.
With fresh buds in a vase, I adorn a repast,
To God's I'm a feast, to sinners a fast;
I'm a cosmetic, a robber, in deep minés I hide,
On the wings of the wind I joyously ride.
1 secrete in caves, in the Hermit's lone cell,
With a truth I am found low down in a well;
I'm in stone, blood and bread, and oft I am able
To dim the bright clouds with a border of sable.
When angry, I mantle the moon and the stars,
Eat fire, drink floods, and hasten rail cars;
I am seen in the cataract, in Egypt's famed river,
I shine in the spheres and will dazzle for ever.
I am opaque and clear, fresh, young and old,
Solve me, I'm thine in silver or gold;
One word to the witty before I depart,

I defy thee to guess me acute as thou art.
But to aid the solution, I add to save blunder,

I was born in the tempest, 'mid lightning and thunder;
My voice will resound, till Earth's final day,

I, the conqueror of ages, must then pass away.
In the new holy city reserved is my place,
Rising fadeless, adorned in beauty and grace;
By saints I'll be welcom'd on the banks of the river,
And I'll fill them with transport for ever and ever ;-
Harps, timbrels, and lyres, will ring with my praise,
And angels sweet voices will echo their lays.

Waverly Place..

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