Yours ever, BERNARD.
P. S. I remember you had a copy of Fortunius Licetus "De Monstris" among your old books. Can't you lend it to me for a while? I am curious, and it will amuse me.
ANNO DOMINI, 1860.
My youth is past!—this morn I stand,
With manhood's signet of command,
Firm-planted on life's middle-land!
Behind, the scene recedes afar,
Where cloudy mists and vapors mar
The lustre of my morning-star.
I mark the courses of my days,
Inwound through many a doubtful maze,—
To marvel at those devious ways!
They lead through hills and levels lone,
Green fields, and woodlands overgrown,
And where deep waters pulse and moan;—
By ruined tower, by darksome dell,
The home of night-birds fierce and fell,
Wherein strange shapes of Horror dwell;—
Out to the blessed sunshine free,
The breezy moors of liberty,
And skies outpouring harmony;—
By palace-wall, by haunted tomb,
Through bright and dark, through joy and gloom:
My life hath known both blight and bloom.