Edgar Allan Poe Article: To One In Paradise

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posted by Milah

Thou wast all that to me, love,
For which my soul did pine-
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain
and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
And all the flowers were mine.

Ah, dream too bright to last!
Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast!
A voice from out the Future cries,
'On! on!'- but o'er the Past
(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!

For, alas! alas! me
For me the light of Life is over!
'No more- no more- no more-'
(Such language holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree
Or the stricken eagle soar!

And all my days are trances,
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy grey eye glances,
And where thy footstep gleams-
In what ethereal dances,
By what eternal streams.

elizasmomma, lilyZ and 27 others like this

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Mini BIO : Edgar Allan Poe

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edgar allan poe

mini bio : edgar allan poe

my essay on Edgar Allen Poe

posted by elizasmomma

as you read Mr.Edgar Allen Poe's poetry that he wrote, you feel this vain young-man searching for away to break free from the tradgies that he faced as a child and in his early teens, and later on in life, but the poem that i just read called: Dreams" really sums up i think what he
was truly feeling there is a comment below the poem that i read that i think is very well put and this
is what it says: " The life of human beings, relates to something called dreams that considered as a prediction. We build our life upon it. we should have dreams with which our life become so sweet and nice
And...

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~The Lost Lenore~

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~The Lost Lenore~

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The Raven

posted by elizasmomma

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
''Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden...