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Edgar Allan Poe - To --

The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see
The wantonest singing birds,
Are lips- and all thy melody
Of lip-begotten words-

Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrined,
Then desolately fall,
O God! on my funereal mind
Like starlight on a pall-

Thy heart- thy heart!- I wake and sigh,
And sleep to dream till day
Of the truth that gold can never buy-
Of the baubles that it may. 

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Added: Apr 27 2005 | Viewed: 3222 times | Comments and analysis of To -- by Edgar Allan Poe Comments (2)

To -- - Comments and Information

Poet: Edgar Allan Poe
Poem: To --
Poem of the Day: Sep 2 2010

Comment 2 of 2, added on February 12th, 2012 at 11:32 AM.
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Comment 1 of 2, added on June 19th, 2005 at 2:06 AM.

hey! what a good poem!

edgar from Brazil

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