Lenore
Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever!
Let the bell toll!вБ†вАФa saintly soul floats on the Stygian river.
And, Guy de Vere, hast thou no tear?вБ†вАФweep now or never more!
See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!
Come! let the burial rite be readвБ†вАФthe funeral song be sung!вБ†вАФ
An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so youngвБ†вАФ
A dirge for her, the doubly dead in that she died so young.
вАЬWretches! ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride,
And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed herвБ†вАФthat she died!
How shall the ritual, then, be read?вБ†вАФthe requiem how be sung
By youвБ†вАФby yours, the evil eyeвБ†вАФby yours, the slanderous tongue
That did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?вАЭ
Peccavimus; but rave not thus! and let a Sabbath song
Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong!
The sweet Lenore hath вАЬgone before,вАЭ with Hope, that flew beside
Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy brideвБ†вАФ
For her, the fair and débonnaire, that now so lowly lies,
The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyesвБ†вАФ
The life still there, upon her hairвБ†вАФthe death upon her eyes.
вАЬAvaunt! to-night my heart is light. No dirge will I upraise,
But waft the angel on her flight with a paean of old days!
Let no bell toll!вБ†вАФlest her sweet soul, amid its hallowed mirth,
Should catch the note, as it doth float up from the damnèd Earth.
To friends above, from fiends below, the indignant ghost is rivenвБ†вАФ
From Hell unto a high estate far up within the HeavenвБ†вАФ
From grief and groan to a golden throne beside the King of Heaven.вАЭ