To M. L. S
Of all who hail thy presence as the morning- Of all to whom thine absence is the night- The blotting utterly from out high heaven The sacred sun – of all who, weeping, bless
The Conqueror Worm
Lo! ’tis a gala night Within the lonesome latter years. An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veils, and drowned in tears, Sit in a theatre to see A play of hopes and fears While
The Haunted Palace
In the greenest of our valleys By good angels tenanted, Once a fair and stately palace- Radiant palace – reared its head. In the monarch Thought’s dominion- It stood there! Never seraph spread a
In the Greenest of our Valleys
I. In the greenest of our valleys, By good angels tenanted, Once fair and stately palace Radiant palace reared its head. In the monarch Thought’s dominion It stood there! Never seraph spread a pinion
Sonnet – To Science
Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art! Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes. Why preyest thou thus upon the poet’s heart, Vulture, whose wings are dull realities? How should he love
The Happiest Day, The Happiest Hour
The happiest day – the happiest hour My sear’d and blighted heart hath known, The highest hope of pride and power, I feel hath flown. Of power! said I? yes! such I ween; But
Alone
From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not
The Bells
I Hear the sledges with the bells- Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All
Evening Star
‘Twas noontide of summer, And mid-time of night; And stars, in their orbits, Shone pale, thro’ the light Of the brighter, cold moon, ‘Mid planets her slaves, Herself in the Heavens, Her beam on
Al Aaraaf
PART I O! nothing earthly save the ray (Thrown back from flowers) of Beauty’s eye, As in those gardens where the day Springs from the gems of Circassy- O! nothing earthly save the thrill
A Valentine
For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes, Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda, Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader. Search narrowly
Annabel Lee
It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE; And this maiden she lived
Romance
Romance, who loves to nod and sing With drowsy head and folded wing Among the green leaves as they shake Far down within some shadowy lake, To me a painted paroquet Hath been-most familiar
For Annie
Thank Heaven! the crisis – The danger is past, And the lingering illness Is over at last – And the fever called “Living” Is conquered at last. Sadly, I know I am shorn of
Bridal Ballad
The ring is on my hand, And the wreath is on my brow; Satin and jewels grand Are all at my command, And I am happy now. And my lord he loves me well;