A man sat alone, upon the stone,
And his sight he casted upon the sea.
Far, far behind this lies his home.
His eyes were gloom, the dreariest I ever seen;
-Dead like a haunted cemetery at midnight.
His cold decorum can put birds to flight.
He was silent with the waves that teased his thoughts.
Back and forth the shore they swayed him thus.
But there; still he sat. O! How still he sat,
Even when the wind blew away his hat.
He did not shake, a sound he did not make.
Not when the tides raised, his peace to take.
He sat there alone, upon the stone.
Gazing at the sea that drowned his home;
Gazing at the sea that drowned his wife.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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