The Nevada journal., 1861-01-18

eHli5o Oh l0oS NoSeHt eh iueHCe-DuI IL Is, IN
any view of it that may be taken, very
singular and mysterious production. There
is in the second verse an allusion to pre-
vious poem that purported to come from
the spirit of Poe, which was published some
years since, and attracted much attention !:
but the following poem is of a higher order,
and much more like Poe than the other
Springfield Republican.
From the throne of life eternal,
From the throne of love supernal,
Where the angel feet make music over all the star
ry floor
Mortals, have coma to meet you,
Come with words of peace to greet you,
And to tell you of the glory that is mine forever
more.
Once before found mortel
Waiting at the heavenly portal
Waiting but to catch some echo from that ever
opening door;
Then seized his quckened being,
And through all his inward seeing,
Caused my burning inspiration in fiery food to
pour.
Now I come more mcekly human,
And the weak lips of a woman
Touch with fire from off the altar, not with burn
ings as of yore.
But in holy love descending,
With her chastened being blending.
would fill your soul with music from the bright
celestial shore.
As one heart years for another,
As child turns to its mother,
From golden gates of glory turn to the earth
more,
Where drained the cup of sadness,
Where my soul was stung to madness,
And life's bitter, burning pillows swept my bur
dened being DER.
Here the harpies and the ravens,
Human yampires-sordid cravens,
Preyed upon my soul and substance till writhed
in anguish sore;
Lie and then seemed mismated,
For felt accursed and fated,
Like restless, wrathful spirit, watching on the
Stygan shore.
Tortured by nameless yearning,
Like frost-fre, freezing, burning,
Did the purple, pulsing life-tde through its few
cred channels pour,
Till the golden bowl-Life's token
Into shining shards was broken,
And my chained and chafng spirit leaped from out
its prison door.
But while living, striving, dying,
Never did my soul cease crying;
" Ye who guide the fatcs and furies give oh, give
me, implorc,
From the myriad hosts of nations
From the countless consultations,
One pure spirit that can love income that 1, too,
adGre.''
Through this fervent aspiration
Found my iainting soul salvation,
For, from out its blackened fre-crypts, did my
quickening spirit soar;
And my beautiful ideal
Not too sanity to be real
Burst more brightly on my vision than the fancy
formed Lenore.
Mid the SUI ging she found me,
With the pillows breaking round me,
And my saddened, sinking spirit, in her arms OF
love unborn;
Like lone one, weak and weary,
Wandering in the midnight dreary,
On her sinlcss, sanity bosom brought me to the
heavenly shore.
Like the breath of blossoms blending,
Like the prayers of saints ascending,
Like the rainbow's seven-hued glory, blend our
souls foreyermore.
Earthly love and lust enslaved me,
But divinest love hath saved me,
And now know, first and only, how to love and
to adore.
Oh, my mortal friends and brothers,
We are each and all another's,
And the soul that gives most freely from its treas
ure, hath the more.
Would you lose your life you find it;
And in giving love, You bind it,
Like an amulet of safety, to your heart, forever
more.