Affectionately presented to the "World's Friend"--Mrs. E. P. W.
Packard--by her friend, Mrs. Sophia N. B. Olsen.
Go, little book, go seek the world;
With banner new, with flag unfurled;
Go, teach mankind aspirings high,
By _human_ immortality!
Thou canst not blush; thine open page
Will all our higher powers engage;
Thy name on every soul shall be,
Defender of humanity!
The poor, the sad, the sorrowing heart,
Shall joy to see thy book impart
Solace, to every tear-dimmed eye,
That's wept, till all its tears are dry.
The palid sufferer on the bed
Of sickness, shall erect the head
And cry, "Life yet hath charms for me
When Packard's books shall scattered be."
Each prison victim of despair
Shall, in thy book, see written there
Another gospel to thy race,
Of sweet "Requiescat in pace."
The time-worn wigs, with error gray,
Their dusty locks with pale dismay,
Shall shake in vain in wild despair,
To see their prostrate castles, where?
No mourner's tear shall weep their doom,
No bard shall linger o'er their tomb,
No poet sing, but howl a strain
Farewell, thou doom'd, live not again.
Yes, oh, poor Ichabod must lay,
Deep buried in Aceldema!
His lost Consuelo shall rise
No more, to cheer his death-sealed eyes.
Then speed thy book, oh, sister, speed,
The waiting world thy works must read;
Bless'd be the man who cries, "Go on,"
"Hinder it not, it shall be gone."
Go, little book, thy destiny
Excelsior shall ever be;
A fadeless wreath shall crown thy brow,
O writer of that book! e'en now.
The wise shall laugh--the foolish cry--
Both wise and foolish virgins, why?
Because the first will wiser grow,
The foolish ones some wisdom show.
The midnight cry is coming soon,
The midnight lamp will shine at noon;
I fear for some, who snoring lie,
Then rise, ye dead, to judgment fly.
The stars shall fade away--the sun
Himself grow dim with age when done
Shining upon our frigid earth;
But Packard's book shall yet have birth,
But never death, on this our earth.
JACKSONVILLE LUNATIC ASYLUM, Jan. 27, 1863.
So much for the opinions of those whom this age call crazy, but who are,
in my opinion, no more insane than all that numerous class of our day, who
are called "spirit mediums;" and to imprison them as insane, simply
because they possess these spiritual gifts or powers, is a barbarity,
which coming generations will look upon with the same class of emotions,
as we now look upon the barbarities attending Salem Witchcraft. It is not
only barbarous and cruel to deprive them of their personal liberty, but it
is also a crime against humanity, for which our government must be held
responsible at God's bar of justice.
I will now give some of the opinions of a few who know something of the
character of my book, whom the world recognize as sane. Dr. McFarland used
to sometimes say, "Who knows but you were sent here to write an allegory
for the present age, as Bunyan was sent to Bedford Jail to write his
allegory?" Dr. Tenny, the assistant physician, once said to me as he was
pocketing a piece of my waste manuscript, "I think your book may yet
become so popular, and acquire so great notoriety, that it will be
considered an honor to have a bit of the paper on which it was written!"