TO ZANTE
by
Edgar Allan Poe
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!"
2021