"Evening is stealing with her nectared breath, Slowly and calmly down to kiss each flower That pouteth in rich beauty from beneath Its emerald colored guardians--the bright leaves-- ('Tis strange what solace brings that magic hour To every heart that hopes, or loves, or grieves-- It is the fitting time for fervent prayer, Which rises holily on kindred air-- For then the air _is_ holy--'tis the time For love--the only time to gaze and die Beneath the lustre of a diamond eye; Yet strange to tell, it is the hour for crime!) In golden majesty the glorious sun, With light too pure for eye to gaze upon, Is sinking slowly in the gorgeous west-- A monarch going proudly to his rest.-- He's gone, and mellow twilight creeps along As gently as the cadence of a song,-- Twilight, to whom each poet in his day, Hath breathed melodious and impassioned lay, While o'er his soul thy witchery was stealing, As sweetly as the whispered tones of feeling. Evening--'tis then the o'er fraught heart doth pour Its wealth of pious incense at the shrine Of deity--the spirit then may soar Into those regions where the angels twine Wreaths for the glorious of our earthly race;-- 'Tis then that we can see, and feel, and trace His glory in the realms of starry space!" We were pleased with the lines to ----, commencing thus: "Memory! Memory!--'tis like the talisman We read of in the page of Eastern story, That magi used the inmost soul to scan Of friends or foes; or oft mayhap to call From his bright crystal, gold, or diamond hall, Some brother in his supernatural glory-- The talisman of feeling, that doth bring Back on the heart the deeds of other days, With all their dark or glorious coloring-- The wizard of the soul, whose wand can raise The disembodied spirits of the dead Palpable as it were to touch;--impress The face of such as long ago have fled Into their state of holy blessedness, Upon the mind." The poem, with which the volume opens, "To My Country," contains many brilliant passages;--and throughout the work, the reader will linger at almost every page to dwell upon something which must please his fancy. Indeed the extracts that we intended to have made have so multiplied upon our hands, that we have not now space to give place to them all. We trust, however, that what we have given will suffice not only to show that our own opinions are correct, but to bring the public, and especially the Virginia public, better acquainted with the author and his work. In a future number we may adorn the columns of the Messenger with further extracts from the POEMS BY A COLLEGIAN.