The times dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1903-1914, 1904-10-30

The dark unfathom'd caves OF ocean
Full many flower is born to blush I'm
| seen,
And waste it's sweetness on the desert
air.
Than these lines, which quote from
Grays immortal elegy truer words never
dropped from any pen. Most of US like
to follow the crowd, to cling to the coat
tails of success; seldom pauslng to think
Tor ourselves In so doing, how oft do
we tralnple upon, and pass unnoticed,
many sweet flowers In the field Of ltera-
ture and music; flowers fit, too. to adorn
the tairest gardens Tako our own Haw-
thornc, for example, he waited long, SO
long before he was Appreciated; his
works--gcms Of purest ray serene--wero
utterly neglected by the passing throng,
and yet he was far, far greater than
any Of his contemporaries. Hope Of
recognition was nearly smothcrcd In his
noble heart. Just think Of 1.-THE author
Moses from an Old Manse,' and ao on,
elbowed by the crowd and forced to oc-.
cupy for many years a back seat! And
yet what a veritable king In the realm
of letters was Nathaniel Hawthorne!
Dr.. Latferty, in speaking Of our own
Bagby, wrote there Is no man left In
Virginia t1t to lift the Id of his ink
stand.' So think OF Hawthorne-there
is no man In America ut to life the lid
Of his ink-stand. At last however, his
fame began to rise, until to-day he is con-
ceded to be the great test writer our ccMn-
try has produced. Hawthorne was an
artist In words. His words are SO we'll
chosen, his sentences so beautifully
wrought that it reminds one of lap!-
dairy who has carefully selected the rar-
est jewels. chiseled and polished them,
and set them with fautless taste In
some golden chalice or silver vase.
might give many examples Of worth UNI
appreciated, but what 1 have written is
sufficient, and leads me up to my sub-s
ject in hand ISL
While looking through my book-shelves
the other day.. / came across a poem
which I had cut out Of the old 'Rlcl-
mond State" newspaper and pasted In my
scrap book. was struck with its beauty
when I first saw it, That was in 1878
or 70, when I was a boy. On reading 1t
the othe day, 1 found that my admia-
ton had not diminished by the lapse Of
years. have wondered that it has not
been heard from since: but it has shared
the fate of many other pearls Of rare
beauty The author of the poem to which
/ refer was Ed ward Mcdowell Graham, OF
Lexington, Va. young man Of brill
\ liant promise. an A. NJ. OF the Univer-
sty of Virginia, who died when life
was in It's rosy dawn Of hope. That
wonderful and gifted American poet
the lanented Poe--says that Chow or
why ne know not, there is a certain
faint of sadness desperately connected
with all the higher manifestations OF
true beauty. That it is, nevertheless
"a feeling Of sadness and longing
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorry only
AS the mists resemble ra lin.
In this exquisite little gem I am about
to quote there certainly Is vein O f what
poe calls a ''pleasurab!e sadness run
ming through it. II is hacd#5to Gull
!ove!.er flower from tbs whole field OF
poetry than 'Annahel Lee. In my hun1-
bic opinion mabel Mine" is blossom
worthy Of being planted somewhere near
If no, quite in, the garden with An
mabel Lee" The perfume that pervades
poor Grahan's poem Is sweet enough to
com,ninge with that Of better-kno"n flow
ers SO, on this beautiful morning. when
all the world Is ablazc with the gor-
ecousness OF autumna! tints, when every
tree is covered with u wealth Of gold
ana ruby, ! take this flower Of his own
creation and place 1t. as II were, upon
the grave OF this young Virsinan. to
keep his memory green Here Is the
poem:
MABEL MINE.