HomeEdgar Allan PoeTO F.

TO F——. Edgar Allan Poe

TO F——

     BELOVED! amid the earnest woes
         That crowd around my earthly path—
     (Drear path, alas! where grows
     Not even one lonely rose)—
         My soul at least a solace hath
     In dreams of thee, and therein knows
     An Eden of bland repose.

     And thus thy memory is to me
         Like some enchanted far-off isle
     In some tumultuos sea—
     Some ocean throbbing far and free
         With storms—but where meanwhile
     Serenest skies continually
         Just o’re that one bright island smile.

1845.


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