The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1868-08-27
THE MENKEN.
sonas Specimens Of H.r Doggsr.I Rhysa.s.

B0He Specimens OF Her U0gRersi Rny&ss'
From the London Star.
The death OF Miss Adah fsaacs Menken In
Paris will attach peculiar interest to volume
OF temt.relgious poems In the press, which will
be published in a few days under the title of
''Inlelicia," and dedicated by special PERMISSION
may not be unnterestng to quote the letter
from Mr.. Dickens which is prenxed to the vol.
ume of poems we have just alluded to:-
"Gads Hill Place, Higbam y. Rochester, Kent,
Monday, Oct. 81, l867.-Dear Miss Meuken:-f
shall have great pleasure In accepting your
dedication. thank you for your portrait as a
highly remarkable specimen of photography. l
also thank you Tor the verses inclosed in your
note. Many such Enclosures come to me, but
few so pathetically written. aud fewer still SO
modestly sent. Faithfully yours,
The poems to which q fac s.nltie copy OF this
letter acts as kind of preface are ab iut thirty
in number. The first poem in the books is
pirate at the present time to quote the folio wing
passage:-
"wby did Idle?
once the blaze OF far cd edge living Love crept
my horizon ana promised mis-, new mocn OF poesy.
. A souls Iull lov.l
shvers OF rapt melody down the grooves OF this
AND promised that echoes should vbrate along the
purple spheres Of unathomable seas 70 the sound
Ana promised that should know the sweet sister
Promised that should live with the crooked moon 10
her eternal beauty. 80
But midnight swoopsd down to bridegroom the dav
Ts blazing @ Phy9T Of thai ,s eGSOsss
ing Stars o. my souls unuttered song
Died this uncofnes A%% DO and a. u1buried death,
Died with my 6eers rFaspinE the white throat of
One poem, called judith" with quotation
| from 'Revelationn under It's title, has the fol-
| lowing passages:-
,.s,a! d back. ye PnilIstinesi
Practlce what ye preach TO me-
Ye sre living Surfing les ana pfofsnaton to the
gsrmsIts which win stately steps ye sweep your
naro!e palaces:
am no MagdaIene waiting to kiss the hem Of your
garment"
Another poem is an avowed imitation of Os-
! sian. Most OF the titles are sad or blIcal, and
two or three prose fragments form part of the
| volume.
There are, in the folio wing verses from the
poem called "Drfis that Bar nv Door, traces
| of profound melancholy, and a real Passionate
| sadntss:-
| 20 Angels! will ye never sweep the drifts from my
viii ye never wipe the gathering rust from the
Liit back the iron bars and lead me hence.
Oh. lead me 70 it-gve me rest-release me from this
Heaven can attest that fought bravely when the
Was u my sin that strength failed?
Was " my sin & that lost the pr ze? do not sorrow
| Why do ye sand sooblng in The sunshine?
| 1 cannot weep.
There is NO sunlight In the dark Cell. starving
| for light.
| ANGELS sweep the drifts swsy-unbar my door!
| Life q lie, and love cheat.
There is graveyard in poor haart-dark, heav ed
| up graves from W hch no flowers spr lng.
"The walls are so hixh that the trembling wings OF
birds do break they re ,ch the summG, and hey
! fail. wounds d, and die In my BOSOM.
wander mid the gray old tombs, and talk with the
| ghost of my buried hopes.
| They tell nae of Eros, and how they huttered
around him, bearing sweet messages of my love
until one day, with his strong arm, ne struck them
| a
Since then these poor lonely ghosts have haunted me
| night and day, ior 1t was WHO deck ed them In
crimson hearldes, ana sent then forth Ia chariOts
| OF fire.
Every breath of wind their shrieks and
groans.
hasten to their graves and tear back folds and folds
If Their shrouus. ana try TO pour INTO their I'D
| nerveess veins the quckenng tide of life oncs
| more.
| Too late-too laie!
Despair hath driven back Death. and clasps in hi
black AIMS
| And the lamp! See the lamp is dying outl
| OAr gels sweep the drifts from my loor!-lift ur
| the bars"