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1809–1849

TO F ——.

Edgar Allan Poe

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 tumultuos sea — Some ocean throbbing far and free With storms — but where meanwhile

Serenest skies continually Just o're that one bright island smile.

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TO F ——. · Edgar Allan Poe · Poetry Cove