Text: M. B. D., “To the Memory of E. A. Poe,” Oquwaka Spectator (Oquwaka, IL), vol. 2, no. 42, November 21, 1849, p. 1, col. 2

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The harp is unstrung! the muse of thy fancy has — has gone — and we young shall no more listen to thy soft numbers. Thou hast gone, in the midst of thy days, to the dark and silent tomb. The chilling blasts of death have passed over thee, and thy voice is silent, but in early life thou didst win a name that shall never die. The current of thy pure thoughts full soon has ceased to flow — the opening buds of thy rich mind give out no beauty now. The sod is heavy on thy breast — the damp is on thy heart. The mandate has gone forth, and though young in life and high in soul, yet, POE, thou must depart. And thou didst go, when Fame for thee had woven her choicest wreath: but thou hadst earned it well, and yet shall wear it, though in death. — Yes, ever, when thy strains are read, our hearts will quicken more; earth's gifted ones will ever love to breathe thy name in song and deck thy grave with precious gems — such gems as thou didst once possess, of deep, impassioned thought.

Kings may be great — their names will die, their glory fade away; empires be overthrown, and all their grandeur gone; conquerors like stars arise, then in oblivion set but thou appeal'st unto the heart — thee we can never forget. — Will not thy spirit wander down mid scenes that thou didst love? O come, there's moonlight on the earth, the dew rets in each closing flower, there's sweetness on the breeze and music in the rustling tones of gently waving groves!

No, thou wilt not visit earth again, for in that spirit land there's nought to try thy soul — all, all, is bright and blest, and thou canst well employ thy fancy and, thy genius there in songs of holy joy. Our world is full of sorrow, toil, care and woe, and disappointment marks the path of pilgrims here below. Then stay, thou blessed spirit, in thy bright world of light; thou hast left to us beams of beauty truth and love.

M. B. D.

Galesburgh, Nov. 1849.