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by Dear Frien As &

MI may not have

not have the showane

a sin=

of trydering to pose in penson the talutation
of the leason, & argie myself, of this mode
of conveying them, ance expressing.
an disime, that you may jug
Many happy returns, of
The Far Bear

Muly y



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Jury 18416

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A Psal

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D. Psalm of Dosth

beauteous Deart! he jewel of the just!
nowhere, but in the dark


lie beyond ity dust

Shining What mysteries do

And It

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the flowers with tearful eyes,




for the

The Lord of Paradise




He bound


as well as valuable, in his unfolding.... Margaret Fuller thanks you for your account of Platen; and wishes further to ask you to send her a copy of the Vol. III of Eckermann's "Conversations with Goethe," which you announced. I will pay your brother for it.

You have kindly offered to buy for me books or drawings, but I shall not give you that trouble. I read little & not adventurously, but mostly in old & proven books. You shall see & hear for me, and tell me what is the hope of the new mines. Meantime I shall make an experiment on the two new books you have sent me, or at least in person on Theodore Mundt. Mr. Mann was to go to Berlin directly, & take on Dials to you. I am sorry, he has changed his plan, & goes slower. In all good hope & assurance, Your friend R. W. EMERSON




Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the just!
Shining nowhere but in the dark;
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,
Could man outlook that mask!

-Henry Vaughan.

He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,
He kissed their drooping leaves;

It was for the Lord of Paradise
He bound them in his sheaves.

1 Longfellow's poem The Reaper and the Flowers as originally published in the Knickerbocker Magazine, carried the subtitle A Psalm of Death and was introduced by the lines here printed in italic. These lines are taken from the fifth stanza of the poem by Henry Vaughan, entitled They Are All Gone into the World of Light. See The Poems of Henry Vaughan, edited by E. K. Chambers (London and New York, 1896), p. 182.




Here where once Atlantis stood, Town and temple, cliff and woodWhere the golden valleys spread Hill to hill, where roadways led White and gleaming to the strand That encircled the loved landHere where once Atlantis rose, Now the covering ocean flows. Screaming sea gulls circling flock Here above its sunken rock.

Deep beneath the water's might,
In that dim and emerald night
Do the old Atlanteans grope
House to house in fading hope
That fair suns again shall rise
In the high Atlantean skies?
Do they tread the dim highways
Searching their forgotten days?
Who knows what the seeker hears
Of old echoes down the years!


On the ways where chariots gleamed,
Roadways where the people streamed
On their path to sea and town,
Great sea monsters flounder down.
Deep the slime lies on the road
Where the teamster flung his goad
To the oxen's quivering flank.
Deep the slime lies, deep and dank,
Where the crumbling temple stands.
Now the seaweed weaves its bands
In and out the empty doors;
And across the temple floors
Deep-sea fishes pass, and sweep
Bones that still a semblance keep
Of those priests who worshipped there.
But the altar, black and bare,

Rises still above the slime

Waiting on its bidden time.


I was High Priest in the ancient worship; You were a maid who served.

I passed you at dawn each morning
On the great white road that curved

From the palace to the temple.
On the hill that faced the east

I stood alone by the altar,

I who was High Priest,

While you with a thousand others
Danced and sang to the sun.
I was High Priest, exalted-
But, when the rites were done,
I sought you out, and led you
To the groves and their holy shade.
I sinned in my love-I, the High Priest,

I sinned with the gods' handmaid.

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