Thou wast all that to me, love, for wich my soul did pine- Agreen isle in the sea, love a fountain and a shrine,

All wreathed with fairy frutis and flowers, And all the flowers were mine

Ah, dream too bright to last

Ah, starry hope! that didst arise But to be overcast

A voice from out the future cries, "On! ON!" But O'er that past

DIM GULF! my spririt hovering lies mute, motionless, aghast! for, alas! alas! me

The light of life is o'er

"No more- no more- nor more"

such language holds the shore

shall bloom the thunder blasted tree or the stricken eagle soar

Edgar Allan Poe