Edgar's Wife Poem by Cherie Mort

Oh, my darling, darkling fey
Whom the angels so adore
Whose shadow disappears by day
By night becomes Lenore

The raven sang your epitaph
An ode as deep as the sea
No less would I dare to accept
For my darling Annabel Lee

If I were Tamerlane, I'd go
And choose a different road
With Ada by my side, I know
I'd peacefully leave my abode

If Berenice had been your name
Long buried underneath
One thing I would keep from your grave:
A box of all your teeth

My Eleanor I'd not betray
To wed sweet Ermengarde post-haste
I'd keep the vows from our wedding day
And keep, for the grave, my body chaste

For violet-eyed Eulalie, young
Her hair like golden summer rays
I'd make a pearl of the moon high-hung
And her ethereal beauty praise

My Ligeia, of raven hair
Born in a city by the Rhine
Did overtake Rowena's corse
And thus, again return as mine

If you had been dear Madeline
Entomb'd in mausoleum stones
I would have torn to shreds the door
Behind which hid your flesh and bones

Morella, loved til dying breath,
A child gave me, with golden coils
Who, once baptized, returned her soul
Her mother, vanished from the soil

And Ulalume, with clouded brow
Held Vulcan's mountain in my chest,
Had I not found you by full circuit,
Lain in the vault by one who loved you best?

This is my last letter, love
For you only, not them
The only woman I did love
Was Virginia Eliza Clemm