The Angel in the Cloud. Edwin W. Fuller

tion>

       Edwin W. Fuller

      The Angel in the Cloud

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066150792

Table of Contents

       PREFACE

       A NOTE

       THE ANGEL IN THE CLOUD

       REQUIESCAM

       LINES TO AN ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY KNOWN TO THE STUDENTS AS “MISS ANNIE” WRITTEN AT THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA, 1866

       LINES TO COUSINS C. AND E. ON THE BIRTH OF THEIR LITTLE DAUGHTER

       THE DEVIL OUTDONE; OR, THE GUARD OF THE SULPHUR LAKE

       THE SUNFLOWER

       AN ELEGY WRITTEN ON THE ROTUNDA STEPS, UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA, 1868

       THE EPIGRAM

       FIRE EYES

       MY DARLING’S JESSAMINE

       THE PARTING SHIP

       TO M——, FROM E—— WRITTEN ON THE FLY-LEAF OF A BIBLE

       UNDER THE PINES “TELL THEM TO BURY ME UNDER THE PINES AT HOME.” FROM “SEA GIFT.”

       THE LAST LOOK TO MARY

       LINES WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF AN UNKNOWN FRIEND

       OUT IN THE RAIN

       THE LILY AND THE DEW-DROP

       LINES, WRITTEN AFTER HAVING A HEMORRHAGE FROM THE LUNGS

O		O
	THE ANGEL IN THE CLOUD BY EDWIN W. FULLER PRIVATELY PRINTED MCMVII
O		O

      Copyright, 1907 Sumner Fuller Parham TO THE HALLOWED MEMORY OF MY FATHER, WHO, EVEN WHILE I WAS GAZING UPON THE GOLDEN CITY PASSED WITHIN ITS WALLS, THIS LITTLE VOLUME IS INSCRIBED, WITH TEARS.

PREFACE

       Table of Contents

      To those who may favor these pages with perusal, I make this earnest request: that, if they commence, they will read all. Knowing that the best mode of dealing with doubts is to state and refute, successively, I regret that the plan of the present work forces a separation of the statement and refutation. To read one without the other were to defeat the object in view; hence my request.

      Many of the subjects of thought are worn smooth with the touch of ages, so that hope for originality is as slender as the bridge of Al Sirat; but in the bulrush ark of self-confidence, pitched with Faith, I commit my first-born to the Nile of public opinion; whether to perish by crocodile critics, or bask in the palace of favor, the Future, alone, must determine. May Pharaoh’s daughter find it!

      E. W. F.

      Louisburg, Jan. 17th, 1871.

A NOTE

       Table of Contents

      First published more than thirty-five years ago, in the lifetime of the poet, THE ANGEL IN THE CLOUD has long since passed not only out of print but out of the memory of most living men. Of the copies of the original edition, only few are known to exist. Upon his surviving family is imposed the obligation, and to them comes the privilege, of rescuing from the realm of forgotten things these evidences of a graceful and genuine poetic gift in one whose memory they revere and whose genius they are unwilling to have die. It is therefore with the sense of performing a grateful duty that they have caused to be printed this new edition of Edwin Fuller’s poems, in the hope and belief that others, like themselves, will value it both as friends of the gentle poet and as disinterested lovers of good literature.

      August, 1907.

THE ANGEL IN THE CLOUD

       Table of Contents

      ’Twas noon in August, and the sultry heat

       Had driven me from sunny balcony

       Into the shaded hall, where spacious doors

       Stood open wide, and lofty windows held

       Their sashes up, to woo the breeze, in vain.

       The filmy lace that curtained them was still,

       And every silken tassel hung a-plumb.

       The maps and unframed pictures o’er the wall

       Gave not a rustle; only now and then

       Was heard the jingling sound of melting ice,

       Deep in a massive urn, whose silver sides

       With trickling dewbeads ran. The little birds,

       Up in their cages, perched with open beaks,

       And throbbing throats, upon the swaying rings,

       Or plashed the tepid water in their cups

       With eager breast. My favorite pointer lay,

       With lolling tongue, and rapid panting sides,

       Beside my chair, upon the matted floor.

       All things spoke heat, oppressive heat intense,

       Save swallows twittering up the chimney-flue,