Lenore

Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever!
Let the bell toll! --- a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river;
And, Guy de Vere, hast thou no tear? --- weep now or nevermore!
See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!
Come! let the burial rite be read --- the funeral song be sung! ---
An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young ---
A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young.

"Wretches! ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride,
And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her --- that she died!
How shall the ritual, then, be read? --- the requiem how be sung
By you --- by yours, the evil eye, --- by yours, the slanderous tongue
That did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?"

Peccavimus; but rave not thus! and let a Sabbath song
Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong.
The sweet Lenore hath "gone before," with Hope, that flew beside,
Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride--
For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies,
The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyes ---
The life still there, upon her hair --- the death upon her eyes.

"Avaunt! to-night my heart is light. No dirge will I upraise,
"But waft the angel on her flight with a Pæan of old days!
"Let no bell toll! --- lest her sweet soul, amid its hallowed mirth,
"Should catch the note, as it doth float up from the damnéd Earth.
"To friends above, from fiends below, the indignant ghost is riven ---
"From Hell unto a high estate far up within the Heaven ---
"From grief and groan, to a golden throne, beside the King of Heaven."
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To The River

FAIR river! in thy bright, clear flow
Of crystal, wandering water,
Thou art an emblem of the glow
Of beauty --- the unhidden heart ---
The playful maziness of art
In old Alberto's daughter;


But when within thy wave she looks ---
Which glistens then, and trembles ---
Why, then, the prettiest of brooks
Her worshipper resembles;
For in his heart, as in thy stream,
Her image deeply lies ---
His heart which trembles at the beam
Of her soul-searching eyes.


both poems by Edgar Allen Poe

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