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 ...
Poe's Works
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 — ...
To Her Whose Name is Written Below
To Her Whose Name is Written Below
For her these lines are penned, whose luminous eyes,Bright and expressive as the stars of Leda,Shall find her own sweet name that, nestling, liesUpon this page, enwrapped from every reader.Search narrowly these words, which hold a treasureDivine — a talisman — an amuletThat must be worn at heart. Search well the measure —The words — the letters themselves. Do not forgetThe smallest point, or you may lose your labor.And yet there is in this no Gordian knot,Which one might not undo without a sabre.If one could merely comprehend the plotUpon the open ...
