Edgar Allan Poe: Poems of Edgar Allan Poe

47. 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 enshrin'd
    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 truth that gold can never buy -
    Of the trifles that it may.


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