Edgar Allan Poe

(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849 / Boston)

To M-- - Poem by Edgar Allan 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.

It is not that my founts of bliss
Are gushing- strange! with tears-
Or that the thrill of a single kiss
Hath palsied many years-

'Tis 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.

Not that the grass- O! may it thrive!
On my grave is growing or grown-
But that, while I am dead yet alive
I cannot be, lady, alone.


Comments about To M-- by Edgar Allan Poe

  • (9/16/2015 9:40:00 PM)


    .........nicely penned, so poignant with a touch of passion ★ (Report) Reply

    3 person liked.
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Read poems about / on: fate, kiss, rose, alone, heart, flower, spring



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002



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