Edgar Allan Poe: Poems of Edgar Allan Poe



How shall the burial rite be read?
    The solemn song be sung ?
The requiem for the loveliest dead,
    That ever died so young?


Her friends are gazing on her,
    And on her gaudy bier,
And weep ! - oh! to dishonor
    Dead beauty with a tear!


They loved her for her wealth -
    And they hated her for her pride -
But she grew in feeble health,
    And they love her - that she died.


They tell me (while they speak
    Of her "costly broider'd pall")
That my voice is growing weak -
    That I should not sing at all -


Or that my tone should be
    Tun'd to such solemn song
So mournfully - so mournfully,
    That the dead may feel no wrong.


But she is gone above,
    With young Hope at her side,
And I am drunk with love
    Of the dead, who is my bride. -


Of the dead - dead who lies
    All perfum'd there,
With the death upon her eyes,
    And the life upon her hair.


Thus on the coffin loud and long
    I strike - the murmur sent
Through the grey chambers to my song,
    Shall be the accompaniment.


Thou died'st in thy life's June -
    But thou did'st not die too fair:
Thou did'st not die too soon,
    Nor with too calm an air.


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