have seen no poem of his which does not contain the material
of poetry—thought, feeling, fancy; but in few of them was the poet enabled to give his thought, feeling and fancy complete expression.
A specimen or two of his poetry it would be an unpardonable omission not to give, in a volume like this, particularly as his poetic period is past.
The following is a tribute to the memory of one who was the ideal hero of his youthful politics.
It was published in the first number of the New-Yorker: