For The Birthday Of Edgar Allan Poe
(January 19, 1909) Poet of doom, dementia, and death, Of beauty singing in a charnel house, Like the lost soul of a poor moon-mad maid, With too much loving of some lord of hell; Doomed and disastrous spirit, to what shore Of what dark gulf infernal art thou strayed, Or to what spectral star of topless heaven Art lifted and enthroned? The winter dark, And the drear winter cold that welcomed thee To a world all winter, gird with ice and storm Thy January day - yea! the same world Of winter and the wintry hearts of men; And still, for all thy shining, the same swarm That mocked thy song gather about thy fame, With the small murmur of the undying worm, And whisper, blind and foul, amid thy dust.
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"(January 19, 1909)..."
This evocative piece by Richard Le Gallienne, titled "For The Birthday Of Edgar Allan Poe", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...