To -- [The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see]

1

The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see
The wantonest singing birds
Are lips - and all thy melody
Of lip-begotten words -

2

Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrin'd
Then desolately fall,
O! God! on my funereal mind
Like starlight on a pall -

3

Thy heart - _thy_ heart! - I wake and sigh,
And sleep to dream till day
Of truth that gold can never buy -
Of the trifles that it may.

-THE END-
Edgar Allan Poe's poem: To -- [The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see]

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