1848 to Francis R. Cope, Philada.

              Oh Poesy! what wight of Wretched State
Een at the lowest
bottom of his woe
When griefs surround him or sad toils
await
When cold misfortunes hand doth round him
blow
But calls on thee to aid against the foe?
Come
gentle soother of wan misery’s train
Before the scowling
can away doth go
Come shower thy spirit down on me
again
*For Frank Cope wants a letter – shall he want in
vain!!!!
*Here the Poet alludes to Danae & Jupiter
olympus an ancient buck

So Henricus is dead! dead ere
his prime!
Alas! that he should share the doom of
man!
Who now is left to build the lofty
rhyme?
Although his altitude was but a span
It
[overtopped] his years. = But no man can
Add cubits to
his stature or his days –
Vain task to stop the fateful
cruel hand
That wields the gory scissons. -- Worldy
praise 
High thought – nor noble deed its destined course
delays. –

(Now all that second Paragraph is
gammon
But if you really think it worth the trouble
If
twill not seem like too great love of mammon
I think you
can get quite as much or double
Prime cost – besides –
perhaps – who knows the bubble
Called Fame / which you’ll
keep for commissions
I want the rhino – all besides is
stubble)
By handing it about without omission
‘Mong'st
those who loudest wail that he's gone to Perdition)