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A "Poem of the Day" from your library in celebration of National Poetry Month

4/28/2015  A "Poem of the Day" from your library in celebration of National Poetry Month. For more information click: http://www.poets.org/national-poetry-month/home

"Dream-Land"  by Edgar Allan Poe

 

By a route obscure and lonely,

Haunted by ill angels only,

Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,  

On a black  throne reigns upright,

I have reached these lands but newly

From an ultimate dim Thule -

From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,

Out of Space-Out of Time.

 

Bottomless vales and boundless floods,

And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,

With forms that no man can discover

For the tears that drip all over;

Mountains toppling evermore

Into seas without a shore;

Seas that relentlessly aspire,

Surging, unto skies of fire;

Lakes that endlessly outspread

Their lone waters-lone and dead,-

Their still waters- still and chilly

With the snows of the lolling lily.

 

By the lakes that thus outspread

Their lone waters, lone and dead,-

Their sad waters, sad and chilly

With the snows of the lolling lily,-

By the mountains-near the river

Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,-

By the grey woods, - by the swamp

Where the toad and the newt encamp,-

By the dismal tarns and pools

Where dwell the Ghouls,-

By each spot the most unholy-

In each nook most melancholy,-

There the traveler meets, aghast,

Sheeted Memories of the Past-

Shrouded forms that start and sigh

As the pass the wanderer by-

White-robed forms of friends long given,

In agony, to the Earth- and Heaven.

 

For the heart whose woes are legion

'T is a peaceful, soothing region-

For the spirit that walks in shadow

'T is- oh, 't is and Eldorado!

But the traveler, travelling through it,

May not- dare openly view it;

Never its mysteries are exposed

To the weak human eye unclosed;

So wills its King, who hath forbid

The uplifting of the fring'd lid;

And thus the sad Soul that here passes

Beholds it but  through darkened glasses.

 

By a route obscure and lonely,

Haunted by ill angels only,

Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,

On a black throne reigns upright,

I have wandered home but newly

From this ultimate dim Thule.

 

Edgar Allan Poe

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