To Marie Louise
Not long ago, the writer of these lines,In the mad pride of intellectuality,Maintained the “Power of Words” — denied that everA thought arose within the human brainBeyond the utterance of the human tongue:And now, as if in mockery of that boast,Two words — two foreign, soft dissyllables —Two gentle sounds made only to be murmuredBy angels dreaming in the moon-lit “dewThat hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill”Have stirred from out the abysses of his heartUnthought-like thoughts — scarcely the shades of thought —Bewildering fantasies — far richer visionsThan even the ...
The Poe Museum Blog
To Mary
To Mary
Mary, amid the cares — the woesCrowding around my earthly path,(Sad path, alas! where growsNot ev’n one lonely rose,)My soul at least a solace hathIn dreams of thee, and therein knowsAn Eden of sweet repose.
And thus thy memory is to meLike some enchanted far-off isle,In some tumultuous sea —Some lake beset as lake can beWith storms — but where, meanwhile,Serenest skies continuallyJust o’er that one bright island smile.
Edgar Allan Poe
Originally Published in 1835 ...
To Margaret
To Margaret
Who hath seduced thee to this foul revolt } Milton Par. Lost. Bk. IFrom the pure well of Beauty undefiled? } SomebodySo banished from true wisdom to prefer } Cowper's Task, Book I Such squalid wit to honourable rhyme?To write? To scribble? Nonsense and no more? } Shakespeare I will not write upon this argument } do.Troilus & CressidaTo write is human — not to write divine. } Pope Essay on Man
Edgar Allan Poe
This poem was never ...
To M. L. S.
To M. L. S.
Of all who hail thy presence as the morning —Of all to whom thy absence is the night —The blotting utterly from out high heavenThe sacred sun — of all who, weeping, bless theeHourly for hope — for life — ah! above all,For the resurrection of deep-buried faithIn Truth — in Virtue — in Humanity —Of all who, on Despair's unhallowed bedLaying them down to die, have suddenly risenAt thy soft-murmured words, “Let there be light!”At the soft-murmured words that were fulfilledIn the seraphic glancing of thine eyes —Of all who owe thee most — whose gratitudeNearest approaches worship — ...