To - -

                1
The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see
    The wantonest singing birds
Are lips - and all thy melody
    Of lip-begotten words -
                 2
Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrin'd
    Then desolately fall,
O! God! on my funereal mind
    Like starlight on a pall -
                  3
Thy heart - _thy_ heart! - I wake and sigh,
    And sleep to dream till day
Of truth that gold can never buy -
    Of the trifles that it may.
1829.

======
TO ---
I HEED not that my earthly lot
    Hath-little of Earth in it--
That years of love have been forgot
In the hatred of a minute:--
I mourn not that the desolate
    Are happier, sweet, than I,
But that you sorrow for my fate
Who am a passer-by.
1829.

Literature Network » Edgar Allan Poe » To - -