Thou wast all that to me, love

For which my soul did pine-

A green isle in the sea, love,

A fountain and a shrine,

All wreathed with fairy fruts and flowers,

And all the flowers were mine.

Ah, dream too bright to last!

Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise

But to be overcast!

A voice from out the Future cries,

"Onward!" - but o'er the Past

(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies

Mute, motionless, aghast!

For, alas! alas! with me

The light of life is o'er!

"No more-- no more-- no more,"

(Such language holds the solemn sea

To the sands upon the shore)

Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree

Or the stricken eagle soar!

And all my hours are trances,

And all my nightly dreams

Are where thy dark eye glances,

And where thy footstep gleams-

In what ethereal dances,

By what Italian streams.

Alas! for that accursed time

They bore thee o'er the billow,

From Love to titled age and crime,

And an unholy pillow!-

From me, and from our misty clime,

Where weeps the silver willow!

By Edgar Allan Poe - "The Assignation"

page done by Tony Howell

Background music by New Age, paradise