Edgar Allen Poe’s birthday is just 10 days away, and that’s all the excuse we need to print a morbidly lovely poem of his today. It’s called “A Dream.” I’d say enjoy, but that’s not quite the right experience to seek:
In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed-
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.
Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?
That holy dream- that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.
What though that light, thro’ storm and night,
So trembled from afar-
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth’s day-star?
Posted by Steve