22 lines
623 B
Plaintext
22 lines
623 B
Plaintext
1830
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TO --
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by Edgar Allan Poe
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The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see
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The wantonest singing birds,
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Are lips- and all thy melody
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Of lip-begotten words-
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Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrined,
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Then desolately fall,
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O God! on my funereal mind
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Like starlight on a pall-
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Thy heart- thy heart!- I wake and sigh,
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And sleep to dream till day
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Of the truth that gold can never buy-
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Of the baubles that it may.
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-THE END-
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.
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