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ELDORADO. Edgar Allan Poe

ELDORADO

         Gaily bedight,
         A gallant knight,
     In sunshine and in shadow,
         Had journeyed long,
         Singing a song,
     In search of Eldorado.

         But he grew old—
         This knight so bold—
     And o’er his heart a shadow
         Fell, as he found
         No spot of ground
     That looked like Eldorado.

         And, as his strength
         Failed him at length,
     He met a pilgrim shadow—
         ‘Shadow,’ said he,
         ‘Where can it be—
     This land of Eldorado?’

         ‘Over the Mountains
         Of the Moon,
     Down the Valley of the Shadow,
         Ride, boldly ride,’
         The shade replied,—
     ‘If you seek for Eldorado!’

1849.

                     EULALIE

                          I  DWELT alone
                         In a world of moan,
             And my soul was a stagnant tide,
     Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride—
     Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride.

                         Ah, less—less bright
                         The stars of the night
                 Than the eyes of the radiant girl!
                         And never a flake
                         That the vapour can make
                 With the moon-tints of purple and pearl,
     Can vie with the modest Eulalie’s most unregarded curl—
     Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie’s most humble and careless curl.

                    Now Doubt—now Pain
                    Come never again,
            For her soul gives me sigh for sigh,
                    And all day long
                    Shines, bright and strong,
            Astart? within the sky,
     While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye—
     While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.

1845.

      A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM

     Take this kiss upon the brow!
     And, in parting from you now,
     Thus much let me avow—
     You are not wrong, who deem
     That my days have been a dream;
     Yet if hope has flown away
     In a night, or in a day,
     In a vision, or in none,
     Is it therefore the less gone?
     All that we see or seem
     Is but a dream within a dream.

     I stand amid the roar
     Of a surf-tormented shore,
     And I hold within my hand
     Grains of the golden sand—
     How few! yet how they creep
     Through my fingers to the deep,
     While I weep—while I weep!
     O God! can I not grasp
     Them with a tighter clasp?
     O God! can I not save
     One from the pitiless wave?
     Is all that we see or seem
     But a dream within a dream?.

1849

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