TO ZANTE

FAIR isle, that from the fairest of all flowers,
Thy gentlest of all gentle names dost take

How

many memories of what radiant hours
At sight of thee and thine at once awake!

How

many scenes of what departed bliss!
How many thoughts of what entombed hopes!

How

many visions of a maiden that is
No more - no more upon thy verdant slopes!

No more! alas, that magical sad sound
Transfomring all! Thy charms shall please no more -

Thy

memory _no more! _Accursed ground
Henceforth I hold thy flower-enamelled shore,

O hyacinthine isle! O purple Zante!
"Isoa d'oro! Fior di Levante!"

This online collection of the Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe is part of the digital book collection at Book-Lover.com