A poem received shortly after, from a friend in Massachusetts, seemed to say that the July moon shone there not less splendid, and may claim insertion here.

TRIFORMIS.

So pure her forehead's dazzling white,

So swift and clear her radiant eyes,

Within the treasure of whose light

Lay undeveloped destinies,—

Of thoughts repressed such hidden store

Was hinted by each flitting smile,

I could but wonder and adore,

Far off, in awe, I gazed the while.