Then I wakened, if to waken Be to dwell by grief, forsaken, With the God who dwelt with angels In the shining age of yore. And I stood sublime, victorious, While below lay earth with glorious Realms of angels shining, Crown-like on her 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; Love’s own heaven thy mother bore thee, And the Father God bends o’er thee, ’Tis His hand that crowns thy forehead, Thou shalt live for evermore, Not on earth, an Eden more. As a gem has many gleamings, And a day hath many beamings, And a garden many roses Thrilled with sweetness to the core; So the soul hath many ages, And the life’s book many pages, But the heart’s great gospel opens Where the Seraphims adore, Not on earth, an Eden more. I will write a book hereafter, Cheerful as a baby’s laughter When its mother’s breast o’er leans it, On the sainted spirit shore; Like Apollo, the far data, I, the poet and the martyr, Will chant paeans of soul music That shall live for evermore, Not a friend, a brother more. _American Paper._ [Illustration] In many instances, authors have selected the curious metre of “The Raven,” with its double echoes, and sonorous refrain, for imitation in poems of too serious a character to be styled Parodies. One clever poem of this description appeared a few years ago in “Lloyd’s Poetical Magazine,” and has recently been republished by its author, Mr. Ernest S. T. Harris-Bickford, of Camborne. It is entitled, “A Vigil Vision,” and is a very musical though rather sad poem, in form and versification much resembling “The Raven,” but having no refrain. Any extracts would do it injustice, and it is too long to quote in full; moreover, it scarcely comes within the compass of this collection. Before quitting “The Raven” and the parodies it has given rise to, it must be mentioned that Mr. J. H. Ingram has clearly pointed out that it was not in itself a perfectly original poem. Indeed Poe, himself, in his half-serious, half-jesting “Philosophy of Composition” remarks, “Of course, I pretend to no originality in either the rhythm, or the metre of “The Raven;” adding, however, that nothing approaching the peculiar combination of the verses into stanzas had ever been previously attempted.