The Forest Reverie

'Tis said that when
The hands of men
Tamed this primeval wood,
And hoary trees with groans of woe,
Like warriors by an unknown foe,
Were in their strength subdued,
The virgin Earth gave instant birth
To springs that ne'er did flow
That in the sun did rivulets run,
And all around rare flowers did blow
The wild rose pale perfumed the gale
And the queenly lily adown the dale
(Whom the sun and the dew
And the winds did woo),
With the gourd and the grape luxuriant grew.

So when in tears
The love of years
Is wasted like the snow,
And the fine fibrils of its life
By the rude wrong of instant strife
Are broken at a blow
Within the heart
Do springs upstart
Of which it doth now know,
And strange, sweet dreams,
Like silent streams
That from new fountains overflow,
With the earlier tide
Of rivers glide
Deep in the heart whose hope has died -
Quenching the fires its ashes hide -
Its ashes, whence will spring and grow
Sweet flowers, ere long,
The rare and radiant flowers of song!

Edgar Allan Poe
(1809-1849)
An American poet, short story writer, playwright, editor, literary critic, essayist and one of the leaders of the American Romantic Movement. Best known for his tales of mystery and of the macabre, Poe was one of the early American practitioners of the short story and a progenitor of detective fiction and crime fiction. Poe had a great influence on a number of writers including Arthur Conan Doyle and Jules Verne.

Click here to post your views / comments on this...