The Works of Edgar Allan Poe - Volume 5


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TO ZANTE  
FAIR isle, that from the fairest of all flowers,  
Thy gentlest of all gentle names dost take  
How many memories of what radiant hours  
At sight of thee and thine at once awake!  
How many scenes of what departed bliss!  
How many thoughts of what entombed hopes!  
How many visions of a maiden that is  
No more--no more upon thy verdant slopes!  
No more! alas, that magical sad sound  
Transfomring all! Thy charms shall please no more--  
Thy memory no more! Accursed ground  
Henceforth I hold thy flower-enamelled shore,  
O hyacinthine isle! O purple Zante!  
"Isoa d'oro! Fior di Levante!"  
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Page
268 269 270 271 272

Quick Jump
1 101 202 302 403