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Text: Edgar Allan Poe, "To One in Paradise" (H), Saturday Museum (Philadelphia), March 4, 1843, p. 1, col. 7




[page 1, column 7, continued:]
TO ONE IN PARADISE.

Thou wast all that to me, love,
    For which my soul did pine —
A green isle in the sea, love, —
    A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,         
    And all the flowers were mine.

Ah, dream too bright to last!
    Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast!
    A voice from out the Future cries,
"On! on!" — but o'er the Past
    (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast !

For, alas! alas! with me
    The light of Life is o'er!
(Such language holds the solemn sea
    To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
    Or the stricken eagle soar!

And all my days are trances,
    And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy dark eye glances,
    And where thy footstep gleams —
In what ethereal dances,
    By what eternal streams.








Notes:

This poem is quoted as part of a biographical article on Poe by his friend, Henry Beck Hirst. The article is full of factual errors, likely attributable to Poe himself.






 
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