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To Isadore | Edgar Allan Poe Poems · Ririro.com - Poetry

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  Speaker 1: Beneath the thine clad eaves, whose shadows fall before thy
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  Speaker 1: lowly cottage door, under the lilac's tremulous leaves, within thy
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  Speaker 1: snowy clasped hands, the purple flowers it bore last eve.
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  Speaker 1: In dreams, I saw thee stand like queenly nymphs from
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  Speaker 1: fairy land, enchantress of the flowery wand most beauteous Isidore.
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  Speaker 1: And when I bathe the dream upon thy spirit flee
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  Speaker 1: thy violet eyes to me, upturned did overflowing seem with
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  Speaker 1: the deep, untold the light of love's serenity, Thy classic
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  Speaker 1: brow like lilies, white and pale as the imperial night,
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  Speaker 1: upon her throne, with stars by dight enthrall'd my soul
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  Speaker 1: to thee ah. Ever I behold thy dreamy, passionate eyes,
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  Speaker 1: blue as the languid skies, hung with the sunset's fringe
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  Speaker 1: of gold. Now strangely clear, thine image grows, and olden
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  Speaker 1: memories are startled from their long repose, like shadows on
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  Speaker 1: the silent snows, when suddenly the night wind blows, where
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  Speaker 1: quiet moonlight lies, like music heard in dreams, like strains
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  Speaker 1: of harps, unknown of birds for ever flown audible as
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  Speaker 1: the voice of streams that murmur in some leafy dell.
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  Speaker 1: I hear thy gentlest tone, and silence cometh with her,
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  Speaker 1: spell like that which on my tongue doth dwell. When
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  Speaker 1: tremulous in dreams, I tell my love to thee alone
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  Speaker 1: in every valley, heard floating from tree to tree. Less
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  Speaker 1: beautiful to me the music of the radiant bird than
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  Speaker 1: artless accents such as thine, whose echoes never flee. Ah,
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  Speaker 1: how for thy sweet voice I pine for utter in
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  Speaker 1: thy tones, benign enchantress, this rude name of mind doth
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  Speaker 1: seem a melody