About the Book
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1867. Excerpt: ... POEM. PREPARED BY DEA. EPHRAIM STOWE. Mr. President: --You call on me, aloud, To stand before this crowd, As if I were a poet; I'm no great poet, Sir, My writings show it, Sir, Just listen, and you'll know it. 'Twas said in olden time, That those who scribbled rhyme Were rather simple folks: --I hope you don't stand there, Nor occupy that chair, To deal out such old jokes. It has been often said, That in a poet's head "There's little common sense;--They sometimes show some wit, Yet often, not a bit Is known to flow from thence." 'Tis hard, they say, to find That poets have a mind, --"They're all imagination;" Why, if they mount the sky, And cull the flowers on high, '"Tis Fancy's wild creation." Or if they soar afar, And leap the polar star, Or dance around the sphere, And paint the realms above, All radiant with love, The reader's heart to cheer: --7 Or strive to spread abroad The glory of that God Who laid the earth's foundationl Why, it is all the same: That pure poetic flame "Is all imagination." But, Sir, I will not roam, But speak of things at home, The day, --the place, --the times;--And, if the picture's soiled, The truth shall not be spoil'd For sake of making rhymes. Tet, while I'm doing so, I must be left, to go, And seek my humble muse, For, I must linger where Her teachings I may share, Or else, your call refuse. Judge Chapin had some dreams, you know, Of late, about old Mendon, And he's a man, the records show, That we may all depend on: --An honest judge, (though man of wit, ) Before whom sorrowing widows sit. He dreamt, --or thought he dreamt, --you see, (So dreamlike it was seeming); And so, perhaps, you'll pardon me, If I should fall to dreaming About old seasons and old times, As I grow sleepy, making rhymes. I cannot hope to dream like him, --(O...
