Lieutenant Hunt, of the American Coast Survey, states that copper-plate engravings may be copied on stone; specimens are to appear in the forthcoming report. To quote his description: 'A copper-plate being duly engraved, it is inked, and an impression taken on transfer-paper. A good paper, which wetting does not expand, is needed, and a fatty coating is used in the process. The transfer-paper impression is laid on the smooth stone, and run through a press. It is then wetted, heated, and stripped off from the stone, leaving the ink and fat on its face. The heated fat is softly brushed away, leaving only the ink-lines. From this reversed impression on the stone, the printing is performed just as in ordinary lithography. A good transfer produces from 3000 to 5000 copies. Thus prints from a single copper-plate can be infinitely multiplied, the printing being, moreover, much cheaper than copper-plate.'
When I was young, my lover stole
One of my ringlets fair:
I wept'Ah no! Those always part,
Who having once changed heart for heart,
Change also locks of hair.
'And wonder-opened eyes have seen
The spirits of the dead,
Gather like motes in silent bands
Round hair once reft by tender hands
From some now shrouded head.
'If' Here he closed my quivering mouth,
And where the curl had lain,
Laid payment rich for what he stole:
Could I to one hour crush life's whole,
I'd live that hour again!
My golden curls are silvering o'er
Who heeds? The seas roll wide;
When one I know their bounds shall pass,
There'll be no tressessave long grass
For his hands to divide;
While I shall lie, low, deep, a-cold,
And never hear him tread:
Whether he weep, or sigh, or moan,
I shall be passive as a stone,
He living, and Idead!
And then he will rise up and go,
With slow steps, looking back,
Stillgoing: leaving me to keep
My frozen and eternal sleep,
Beneath the earth so black.
Pale browoft leant against his brow:
Dear handwhere his lips lay;
Dim eyes, that knew not they were fair,
Till his praise made them half they were
Must all these pass away?
Must nought of mine be left for him
Save the poor curl he stole?
Round which this wildly-loving me
Will float unseen continually,
A disembodied soul.
A soul! Glad thoughtthat lightning-like
Leaps from this cloud of doom:
If, living, all its load of clay
Keeps not my spirit from him away,
Thou canst not, cruel tomb!
The moment that these earth-chains burst,
Like an enfranchised dove,
O'er seas and lands to him I fly,
Whom only, whether I live or die,
I loved, love, and shall love.
I'll wreathe around himhe shall breathe
My life instead of air;
In glowing sunbeams o'er his head
My visionary hands I'll spread,
And kiss his forehead fair.
I'll stand, an angel bold and strong,
Between his soul and sin;
If Grief lie stone-like on his heart,
I'll beat its marble doors apart,
To let Peace enter in.
He never more shall part from me,
Nor I from him abide;
Let these poor limbs in earth find rest!
I'll live like Love within his breast,
Rejoicing that I died.
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