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Which is enduring, so be deep!
Heaven have her in its sacred keep!
This chamber changed for one more holy,
This bed for one more melancholy,
I pray to God that she may lie
For ever with unopened eye,
While the dim sheeted ghosts go by!
My love, she sleeps! Oh may her sleep,
As it is lasting, so be deep!
Soft may the worms about her creep!
Far in the forest, dim and old,
For her may some tall vault unfold-
Some vault that oft has flung its black
And winged pannels fluttering back,
Triumphant, o'er the crested palls
Of her grand family funerals-
Some sepulchre, remote, alone,
Against whose portal she hath thrown,
In childhood, many an idle stone-
Some tomb from out whose sounding door
She ne'er shall force an echo more,
Thrilling to think, poor child of sin !
It was the dead who groaned within.

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone ?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,

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Beloved ! amid the earnest woes

That crowd around my earthly path-
(Drear path, alas ! where grows
Not even one lonely rose) -

My soul at least a solace hath
In dreams of thee, and therein knows
An Eden of bland repose.
And thus thy memory is to me

Like some enchanted far-off isle
In some tumultuous sea-
Some ocean throbbing far and free

With storms, but where meanwhile
Serenest skies continually

Just o'er that one bright island smile.

The skies they were ashen and sober;

The leaves they were crisped and sere

The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October

Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,

In the misty mid region of Weir-
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,

In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

Here once, through an alley titanic

cypress, I roamed with my Soul-
Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
These were days when my heart was volcanic

As the scoriac rivers that roll

As the lavas that restlessly roll
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek

In the ultimate climes of the pole-
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek

In the realms of the boreal pole.
Our talk had been serious and sober,

But our thoughts they were palsied and sere

Our memories were treacherous and sereFor we knew not the month was October,

And we marked not the night of the year

(Ah night of all nights in the year!) We noted not the dim lake of Auber

(Though once we had journeyed down here) Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,

Nor the ghoul haunted woodland of Weir.

And now, as the night was senescent,

And star-dials pointed to morn

As the star-dials hinted of mornAt the end of our path a liquescent

And nebulous lustre was born, Out of which a miraculous crescent

Arose with a duplicate hornAstarte's bediamonded crescent

Distinct with its duplicate horn.

And I said, "She is warmer than Dian :

She rolls through an ether of sighs

She revels in a region of sighs:
She has seen that the tears are not dry on

These cheeks, where the worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the Lion,

To point us the path to the skies-
To the Lethean peace of the skies-

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Come up, in despite of the Lion,

, To shine on us with her bright eyesCome up through the lair of the Lion,

With love in her luminous eyes." But Psyche, uplifting her finger,

Said—“Sadly this star I mistrust

Her pallor I strangely mistrust:Oh hasten!-oh let us not linger!

Oh fly!--let us fly!—for we must.” In terror she spoke, letting sink her

Wings till they trailed in the dustIn agony sobbed, letting sink her

Plumes till they trailed in the dust

Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust. I replied—“This is nothing but dreaming:

Let us on by this tremulous light!

Let us bathe in this crystalline light! Its sibylic splendour is beaming

With hope and in beauty to-night:

See!—it flickers up the sky through the night! Ah we safely may trust to its gleaming,

And be sure it will lead us aright:
We safely may trust to a gleaming

That cannot but guide us aright,
Since it flickers up to heaven through the night.”
Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,

And tempted her out of her gloom

And conquered her scruples and gloom; And we passed to the end of the vista,

But were stopped by the door of a tomb

By the door of a legended tomb;
And I said—“What is written, sweet sister,

On the door of this legended tomb?"
She replied"Ulalume-Ulalume-

'Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!” Then

heart it

ashen and sober
As the leaves that were crisped and sere-
As the leaves that were withering and sere-


And I cried—“It was surely October

On this very night of last year
That I journeyed—I journeyed down here-
On this night of all nights in the year.

Ah what demon has tempted me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber-

This misty mid region of Weir-
Well I know, now, this dark tarn of Auber,

This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir."

HELEN, thy beauty is to me

Like those Nicean barks of yore
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,

The weary way-worn wanderer bore

To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,

Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs, have brought me home

To the glory that was Greece,

And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo, in yon brilliant window-niche

How statue-like I see thee stand,

The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah Psyche, from the regions which

Are holy land! i This is the form of the poem which obtained, I presume, the ultimate approval of its author. An earlier version gave an additional last stanza :Said we then—the two, then—"Ah can it

Have been that the woodlandish ghouls

The pitiful, the merciful ghouls-
To bar up our way and to ban it

From the secret that lies in these wolds

From the thing that lies hidden in these wolds-
Have drawn up the spectre of a planet

From the limbo of lunary souls-
This sinfully scintillant planet

From the hell of the planetary souls?”

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