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Happy 200th Birthday, Mr. Poe.
O! I care not that my earthly lot
    Hath — little of Earth in it —
That years of love have been forgot
    In the fever of a minute —

I heed not that the desolate
    Are happier, sweet, than I —
But that you meddle with my fate
    Who am a passer-by.

I heed not that my founts of bliss
    Be gushing, oh! with tears
That the tremor of one kiss
    Hath palsied many years —
‘T is not that the flowers of twenty springs
    Which have wither'd as they rose
Lie dead on my heart-strings
    With the weight of an age of snows.

Nor that the grass — O! may it thrive!
    On my grave is growing or grown —
But that, while I am dead and alive
    I cannot be, love, alone.




( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Jan. 20th, 2009 06:08 pm (UTC)
Happy Birthday Poe! We'll be back to visit again soon. :-P

Hopefully we won't have to worry about getting locked in the graveyard this time. lol

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )