The sweet Lenore hath "gone before," with Hope, that flew beside, Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride; For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies, The life upon her yellow hair, but not within her eyes,― The life still there upon her hair, the death upon her eyes. IV. "Avaunt! to-night my heart is light. No dirge will I upraise, But waft the angel on her flight with a pæan of old days. Let no bell toll; lest her sweet soul, amid its hallowed mirth, Should catch the note, as it doth float up from the damned earth. To friends above, from fiends below, the indignant ghost is riven; From hell unto a high estate far up within the heaven; From grief and groan, to a golden throne beside the King of heaven.” HYMN. Ar morn, at noon, at twilight dim, With sweet hopes of thee and thine! A VALENTINE. FOR her this rhyme is penned whose luminous eyes, That must be worn at heart; search well the measure, If one could merely comprehend the plot. Like the knight Pinto-Mendez Ferdinando— * You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do.* FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD, the poetess,-dead, since Poe. For her opinion of him, see Griswold's Memoir.-ED. Ꭰ AN ENIGMA. "SELDOM we find," says Solomon Don Dunce, “Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet: Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it." But this is now-you may depend upon it- Of the dear names that lie concealed within't." In the last two poems, read the first letter of the first line in connection with the second letter of the second line, the third letter of the third line, the fourth of the fourth, and so on to the end. The name of the persons to whom addressed will thus appear. * See Poe's Literati, p. 242.-Ed. TO Nor long ago, the writer of these lines, Maintained "the power of words;" denied that ever Beyond the utterance of the human tongue: Than even the seraph harper Israfel (Who has "the sweetest voice of all God's creatures") Alas! I cannot feel; for 'tis not feeling, This standing motionless upon the golden |