XVIII. And the white dove, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the polish’d bust of Paulus, just above my chamber-door; And his eyes with kindness beaming――holy spirit’s kindness seeming,―― And a soft light from him streaming, sheds its radiance on the floor; And my glad soul in that radiance, that lies floating on the floor, Shall be basking――EVERMORE! This parody was written by the Rev. John W. Scott, D.D., Professor in the West Virginia University, on the death of his wife, and was published with some other poems by Claxton and Co., Philadelphia, in 1874. ―――――――― LINES BY SARAH J. BOLTON, OF RICHMOND, ON THE DEATH OF EDGAR A. POE. (_Written for the Memorial Committee; November_, 1875.) They have laid thee down to slumber where the sorrows that encumber Such a wild and wayward heart as thine can never reach thee more; For the radiant light of gladness never alternates with sadness, Stinging gifted souls to madness, on that bright and blessed shore; Safely moored from sorrow’s tempest, on that distant Aidenn shore, Rest thee, lost one, evermore. Thou wert like a meteor glancing through a starry sky, entrancing, Thrilling, awing, wrapt beholders with the wondrous light it wore; But the meteor has descended, and the “nightly shadows blended,” For the fever-dream is ended, and the fearful crisis o’er―― Yes, the wild unresting fever-dream of human life is o’er―― Thou art sleeping evermore. Ocean, earth, and air could utter words that made thy spirit flutter―― Words that stirred the hidden fountain swelling in the bosom’s core; Stirred it till its wavelets, sighing, wakened to a wild replying, And in numbers never dying sung the heart’s unwritten lore―― Sung in wild, bewitching numbers, thy sad heart’s unwritten lore, Now unwritten nevermore. There was something sad and lonely in thy mystic songs that only Could have trembled from a spirit weary of the life it bore; Something like the plaintive toning of a hidden streamlet moaning In its prismed darkness――moaning for the light it knew before. For the fragrance and the sunlight that had gladdened it before―― Sighing, sighing, evermore. To thy soul, for ever dreaming, came a strange effulgence, beaming, Beaming, flashing from a region mortals never may explore; Spirits lead thee in thy trances through a realm of gloomy fancies, Giving spectres to thy glances man had never seen before―― Wondrous spectres such as human eye had never seen before Were around thee evermore.