On that immortal plain
May all the Jackson scholars meet,
And all their loving teachers greet,
And never part again.



THE INTELLECTUAL TELEGRAPH.

ADDRESSED TO MISS C. CASHO.

Dear friend! O, how my blood warms at that word,
And thrills and courses through my every vein;
My inmost soul, with deep emotion stirr'd--
Friend! Friend! repeats it o'er and o'er again.

I'll make a song of that sweet word, and sing
It oft, to cheer me in my lonely hours,
Till list'ning hills, and dells, and woodlands ring,
And echo answers, Friend! with all her powers.

'Tis truly strange, and strangely true; I doubt
If any can explain, though all have seen,
How kindred spirits find each other out,
Though deserts vast or oceans lie between.

Some golden sympathetic cords unseen,
Unite their souls as if with bands of steel,
So finely strung, so sensitively keen,
The slightest touch all in the circle feel.