Edmund V. Strolis
Edmund V. Strolis Poems
Comments about Edmund V. Strolis
Edgar Allan Poe
They all wash over me with pitying eyes, they think that I don't see.
Yet they are only crude jagged faces on the canvas of my dreams.
Empty their wishes float, as they seem to pray my safe return.
How can they know the fever that within this prison burns.
For what is this sinister slow waltz to hell without my sweet Lenore?
My wish which any fool can guess, I must be with her once more.
How my heels find their way to that vacant tomb beyond the bedroom door.
Now I curse the promise of that desperate hour! not to join my love Lenore.
Hooves over ...
Oh Michigan, winter wonderland!
Let me peel off my wet socks
Hung now steaming above the fire
Such rewards the summer cuts
Of seasoned wood now crackling
Steaming too a bit
Some damp inner crevice sighing