The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1872-01-31
Sequel TO tho "Rnven.n,

Like those evil birds of fable,
Downward swooping yherethe dropping
Ghosts Of agonies departed, .Hrn
fostering wounds that long had smarted,
Broken vOwe, returnlebs mornings,
Griefs and miseries OF yore,
By some art revived. undaunted,
gazed steadfast; the enchanted,
Black. Internal Raven uttered
A wild dirge-not Evermore.
Gazing steady. gazing madly
On the bird, spoke, and sadly
BROKE down, too deep for scorning,
Sought for mercy to implore.
Turning to the bird, I blessed it
In my bosom oaressed it;
Still it pierced my heart and reveled
In the palpitating gore.
I grew mad; the crowning fancies,
Black weeds they-not blooming pansies-
Made me think tho bird spirit.
Bird, cried, be bird no more;
Take O ahape-be man, be devil,
Be snake; rise in thy reve
From thy banquet rise-be humanl
have seen thee oft before;
Thou art q bird. but something more.
Tapping, tapping. striking deeper,
Thou hast tot oft ere 5 while while sought ae entrance
At the hearts great palace door;
Leave me, leave me, gloomy demon,
Fiend or spirit most inhuman;
Strike me through, but first unwilling,
Let mo ecan thee DER and Ger
Thou art bird, but something more.
Still with sable pinions Tapping,
The great Raven tapping, tapping,
Struck into my breast his talons.
Vast his wings ouispread, and DER
All my nature cast pallOr,
But strove with dying valor,
With the poinard OF repulsion,
Striking through the form it wore
or q bird, and something moro.
Obi thou hugo, internal Raven,
Image that Hell's King hath craven,
Image growing more gigantic,
Nurscd beyond the Stygian shore,
Leave me, leave me, beseech thee,
would not of wrong impeach thee;
cried madly, then earth opened,
With a brazen earthquake roar.
Downward, downward, circling, speeding,
Cries Of anguish still unheeding,
Striking through me with his talons,
Still the Raven shape he bore;
Unto Erebus wo drifted,
His huge wings by thunder lifted.
Beat 'gainst drifts Of white-famed lightning,
Sprinkled red with human gore
Twas bird, but demon more.
I'm no bird. "an angel brother"
A bright spirit aud mono other,
have waitod, blissful tended
Thee for thirty years and moro.
In thy wild, illusiye madness;
In thy blight, disease and sadness,
have sounded, tapping, tapping
At thy spirits Eden door,
Not a bird, but angel more.
In ny Palmyrenian splendor,
In Zenobian regnGnce tender,
More than Roman thought Aurelian,
We're the kingly name bore;
have left my angel palace,
Dropping in thy sOrrOw's chalice
Consolation; ohi twas blessed,
Sweet thy pillow to bend Ger.
Not bird, loves angel more.
Shining down with light Elysian
Through ihe poarly gate Of vision,
On thy trancad soul lighted fancy,
When across thy chamber floor,
Foil the spirit moonlight laden,
Laden with soft dews from Aidenn,
ShakeA downward, still Nepenthe
Drunk by dreaming bards Of yore.
Eden is life's mocking fever,
Where through oitron groves forever
Blow the spice winds, and the love birds
Tell their raptures DER and Ger.
From earth's hell by Afrits haunted,
From it's evil disenchanted,
have borne thee, gaze upon me,
Didst thou sec me ne'er beforel
Then wakened, if to waken
Be to dwell by grief, forsaken,
With the God who dwelt with angels
In tho shining age OF yoro.
And stood sublime, Victorious,
While below lay earth with glorious
Realms OF angels shining,
Crown-like on hor temples evermore,
Not on earth, an Eden more.
Earth, I cried, thy clouds are shadows
From the Asphodelian meadows
OF the sky-world floating downward,
Early rains that from them pour;
Loves own heaven thy mother bore thee,
And tho Father God bends Ger thee,
Ills His hand that crowns thy forehead,
Thou shalt live forever moro,
Not on earth, an Eden more.
As gem has many gleamings,
And day hath many beamings,
Aud q garden many roses
Thrilled with sweetness to tho core;
So the soul hath many ages,
And the lfe's book many pages,
But tho hearts great gospel opens
Where the boraphms adore,
Not on earth. au Eden more
I will write y book hereafter,
Cheerful as baby's laughter
When it's mothers breast DER leans it,
On the sainted spirit shore;
Like Apollo. tho far data,
/, the poet and tho martyr,
Will chant poans Of soul music
That shall 1.-Two foreyermoro,
Not friend, a brother moro.
"NIy son." said good mother to her
young hopeful. "did you wish your
teacher n happy New Year?" "No,
mn'amo reaDOndod tho how ttWall