But my heart it is brighter
Than all of the many
Stars in the sky,
For it sparkles with Annie-
It glows with the light
Of the love of my Annie-
With the thought of the light
Of the eyes of my Annie.
Yet that terror was not fright,
But a tremulous delight-
A feeling not the jewelled mine
Could teach or bribe me to define-
Nor Love- although the Love were thine.
In every deed shall mingle, love.
The ecstasies above
With thy burning measures suit-
Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,
With the fervor of thy lute-
Well may the stars be mute!
O, she was worthy of all love!
We loved with a love that was more than love.
So when in tears
The love of years
Is wasted like the snow,
And the fine fibrils of its life
By the rude wrong of instant strife
Are broken at a blow
Within the heart
Do springs upstart
Of which it doth now know,
And strange, sweet dreams,
Like silent streams
That from new fountains overflow,
With the earlier tide
Of rivers glide
Deep in the heart whose hope has died--
Quenching the fires its ashes hide,--
Its ashes, whence will spring and grow
Sweet flowers, ere long,
The rare and radiant flowers of song!
years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute.
How daring an ambition; yet how deep-
How fathomless a capacity for love!
More Edgar Allan Poe Quotations (Based on Topics)
Dreams - Beauty - Man - World - Love - Soul - Mind - Light - Night - God - Madness - Nature - Happiness - Life - Heaven - Literature - Silence - Hope - Thought & Thinking - View All Edgar Allan Poe Quotations
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