PS 1274- • C35 K4- 189-t- I^eei? ptyilc^optyy. ■ UTEUAYVHK. "Tis (agon the bmmerahle. To find the truth exerse the irholr; The many channels that we find! 'Tis from the dross ire draine ttie (fold hi ploy the reason (ff the mind And light the can/He of the soul. so Most gallent, brave, and true. But now of him no more will know HTs gone to gates of blue." He pased the din, the terrible war All through the North and South; And now he joins his count}' stars. For all of heros worth. A'way beyond the western plain! The far off faronteer. And to the stormy meridian When night was drawing near. And now his form we see no more On mount, or western hills. He is gone to walk the golden shore The everlasting wills. * Small town among the rocky mountains. I would like the peple t > understand that this is intirely my own work wherein the people c in judge me, and where I can glory, and not in anothers. The Manager and many other other gentleman offered to do my proofreading; but this I disregarded as 1 am surelcan do my own work perfectly if I have the necessary leasure and means at desposal: besides 1 do not wish the people Jo acknowlege m: for aything not my own exclusively. It seemes that some parties are not co ttent to swindle me our of all properity, by taking the advantage of my deafnes, but every little fault is made a continual dispuf; that the value or whatever is beautiful and good may be renderd to themselves; the people think there is some- thing wrong, they are quite right but if they will only believe me where myself is concerned theywill never be decived by proffessional hood winkers. 1 Am the poet of the "Bright nnd morning star" of State and National, of Beauty, Love, and Friendship. As well as a City Poet. And everthing will be proven as 1 say as soon as 1 am able to publish my book: and being sorroun led as I state in my history it takes all 1 can do to defend myself. ■ — - 1 - I... 1 a - !•'. . W. Cavanagh. Deaf Poet. Cot". RIGHTED. UnDEK The TlTLE Of THE Mute Immortal Strains. DEAF POET. All things in h'jr so strict, so; dear I do deny I cannot hrar; The rushing /rinds the sounds of spring Tli< babbling brooks, the birds that sing: Hi/' Ustemng leaves, the mountain breezes, The sounding noise of winter freezes, The nut ring storms and dashing wuiers, And most of all; mrpC S fairest daughters. And yet, in bjB so sensitive of s/nrit! [/ seems as though that I run hear it. E. IT. Cavanqffk; IK /'. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS