For the Southern Literary Messenger.
TO MARY.
| Mary, amid the cares—the woes Crowding around my earthly path, (Sad path, alas! where grows Not ev'n one lonely rose,) My soul at least a solace hath In dreams of thee, and therein knows An Eden of sweet repose. And thus thy memory is to me Like some enchanted, far-off isle, In some tumultuous sea— Some lake beset as lake can be With storms—but where, meanwhile, Serenest skies continually Just o'er that one bright island smile. |
E. A. P.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
THE VISIONARY—A TALE.
BY EDGAR A. POE.
| Stay for me there! I will not fail To meet thee in that hollow vale. |