Item #803 HANDWRITTEN POETRY by EDWIN HENRY RUTLAND, VT 1818-1822
HANDWRITTEN POETRY by EDWIN HENRY RUTLAND, VT 1818-1822
HANDWRITTEN POETRY by EDWIN HENRY RUTLAND, VT 1818-1822
HANDWRITTEN POETRY by EDWIN HENRY RUTLAND, VT 1818-1822
HANDWRITTEN POETRY by EDWIN HENRY RUTLAND, VT 1818-1822
HANDWRITTEN POETRY by EDWIN HENRY RUTLAND, VT 1818-1822

HANDWRITTEN POETRY by EDWIN HENRY RUTLAND, VT 1818-1822

Item #803

A tattered handmade paperbound book contains thirteen poems within about 40 pages. Written on the first page is “Edwin Henry’s Property, - Rutland, December 1st, AD 1818.” A quick search of Henry, finds that he was most likely a founding father of Rutland, Vermont. His handwritten calligraphy pursues themes of death, God, desire, war, tragedy, and love. Some poems are original while others are copy.

The rag paper cover is worn thin and torn at edges. Spotting, foxing, and discoloration throughout. Ink has bled through some pages which has made certain stanzas difficult to read. A few detached pages at the back of the book seem to be written at a later date (perhaps in a different hand?). The ink is darker and the writing itself much smaller. There is one poem, “The Brides Farewell”, a transcription of poem by another writer, and a bill made out to Capt. Allan McLane (“the father of the present Secretary of the continental United States).

Excerpts below:

From Dedication of Charleston Bridge:
“Great Kings Dukes and Lords in vain drew their swords/ To destroy the just rights of our Nation/ On this fatal hill by thousands they fell/ ’Twas freedom required the oblation

While rivers of blood ran down like a flood/ And flames made a full confligration [sic]/ Charleston to the skies like a Phoenix shall rise/ As Chaos gave way for Creation”


From A Dialogue Between Death & A Lady:
(Death) “Do you not know me then I’ll tell you then/ Tis I that conquers all sons of men/ No pitch(?) honor from my dart(?) is free/ My Name is Death have you not heard of me

(Lady) Yes I have heard of you time after time/ But being in the glory of my prime/ I did not think that thou wouldst will so soon/ Why must my morning sun go down at noon…”.

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