Sarah Helen Whitman (1803 – 1878)
Poet, essayist, transcendentalist, Spiritualist and a romantic interest of Edgar Allan Poe.
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Tell him I lingered alone on the shore,
Where we parted, in sorrow, to meet nevermore;
The night-wind blew cold on my desolate heart
But colder those wild words of doom,—“Ye must part.”
Star of resplendent front! Thy glorious eye
Shines on me still from out yon clouded sky.
Enchantress of the stormy seas,
Priestess of Night's high mysteries.
The summer skies are darkly blue,
The days are still and bright,
And Evening trails her robes of gold
Through the dim halls of Night.
Raven from the dim dominions
On the Night's Plutonian shore,
Oft I hear thy dusky pinions
Wave and flutter round my door—
See the shadow of thy pinions
Float along the moonlit floor.
Warm lights are on the sleepy uplands waning
Beneath dark clouds along the horizon rolled,
Till the slant sunbeams through the fringes raining
Bathe all the hills in melancholy gold.
The sweet imperious mouth, whose haughty valor
Defied all portents of impending doom.
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