The Works of Edgar Allan Poe - Volume 5


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TO ISADORE  
I
BENEATH the vine-clad eaves,  
Whose shadows fall before  
Thy lowly cottage door  
Under the lilac's tremulous leaves--  
Within thy snowy claspeèd hand  
The purple flowers it bore..  
Last eve in dreams, I saw thee stand,  
Like queenly nymphs from Fairy-land--  
Enchantress of the flowery wand,  
Most beauteous Isadore!  
II  
And when I bade the dream  
Upon thy spirit flee,  
Thy violet eyes to me  
Upturned, did overflowing seem  
With the deep, untold delight  
Of Love's serenity;  
Thy classic brow, like lilies white  
And pale as the Imperial Night  
Upon her throne, with stars bedight,  
395  


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393 394 395 396 397

Quick Jump
1 101 202 302 403