![Edgar Allan Poe-To F](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCYuQDDfgdJ7eMJZC4jGap2YDka2_Cwz5EMGwzC5vayJ8f5VQh3X2lR04r_dygVnj2oWoY0ePpCkjXSyumKFA5cg2Lq8qcuQL1ZCr6uCploZqnnUOLWC9xD7R7EXoqyGEApS_hsFOqyD8/d-rw/Edgar-Allan-Poe.jpg)
Beloved! amid the earnest woes
That crowd around my earthly path-
(Drear path, alas! where grows
Not even one lonely rose)-
My soul at least a solace hath
In dreams of thee, and therein knows
An Eden of bland repose.
And thus thy memory is to me
Like some enchanted far-off isle
In some tumultuous sea-
Some ocean throbbing far and free
With storms- but where meanwhile
Serenest skies continually
Just o'er that one bright island smile.