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The Sleeper | Poems by Edgar Allan Poe · Ririro.com - Poetry

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  Speaker 1: At midnight in the month of June. I stand beneath
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  Speaker 1: the mystic moon. An opiate vapor, dewy dim exhales from
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  Speaker 1: outer her golden rim, and softly, dripping drop by drop
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  Speaker 1: upon the quiet mountain top steals drowsily and musically into
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  Speaker 1: the universal valley. Rosemary nods upon the grave. The lily
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  Speaker 1: laws upon the wave, wrapping the fog about its breast.
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  Speaker 1: The ruined molders and to rest, looking like lata see
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  Speaker 1: the lake. A conscious slumber seems to take and would
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  Speaker 1: not for the world awake. All beauty sleeps and lo
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  Speaker 1: where lies her easement open to the skies, irene with
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  Speaker 1: her destinies, O, lady bright, can it be right? This
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  Speaker 1: window opened to the night. The wanton airs from the
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  Speaker 1: treetop laughingly through the latter drop, the bodyless airs, A
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  Speaker 1: wizard route that through thy chamber, in and out, and
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  Speaker 1: wave the curtain canopy so fitfully, so fearfully above the
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  Speaker 1: clothes and fringe to lid beath which thy slumbering soul
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  Speaker 1: byes hid that o'er the floor and down the wall,
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  Speaker 1: like ghosts, as shadows rise and fall. Oh lady dear,
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  Speaker 1: hast thou no fear, Why and what art thou dreaming here?
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  Speaker 1: Sure thou art come her far off seas? Who wonder
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  Speaker 1: to these garden trees? Strange is thy pallor strange, thy
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  Speaker 1: dress strange above all thy length of tress, and this
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  Speaker 1: all solemn silentness. The lady sleeps. Oh, may her sleep,
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  Speaker 1: which is enduring, so be deep. Heaven have her in
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  Speaker 1: sacred Keep this chamber changed for one more holy, this
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  Speaker 1: bed for one more melancholy. I pray to God that
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  Speaker 1: she may lie forever with unopened eye, while the dim
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  Speaker 1: sheeted ghosts go by my love she sleeps. Or may
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  Speaker 1: her sleep, as it is lasting, so be deep soft.
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  Speaker 1: May the worms about her creep far in the forest,
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  Speaker 1: dim and old. For her, May some tall vault unfold,
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  Speaker 1: some vault that oft hath flung, its black and winged
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  Speaker 1: panels fluttering back triumphant o'er the crested palls of her
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  Speaker 1: grand family funerals, some sepulcher, remote alone, against whose portal
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  Speaker 1: she hath thrown in childhood, many an idle stone, some
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  Speaker 1: tune from out whose sounding door she ne'er shall force
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  Speaker 1: and echo more thrilling to think, poor child of sin,
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  Speaker 1: it was the dead who groaned within