Book Lover


THE VILLAGE STREET

by Edgar Allan Poe

IN these rapid, restless shadows,
Once I walked at eventide,
When a gentle, silent maiden,
Wal ked in beauty at my side

She
alone there walked beside me
All in beauty, like a bride.

Pallidly the moon was shining
On the dewy meadows nigh;
On the silvery, silent rivers,
On the mountains far and high
On the ocean's star-lit waters,
Where the winds a-weary die.

Slowly, silently we wandered
From the open cottage door,
Underneath the elm's long branches
To the pavement bending o'er;
Underneath the mossy willow
And the dying sycamore.

With the myriad stars in beauty
All bedight, the heavens were seen,
Radiant hopes were bright around me,
Like the light of stars serene;
Like the mellow midnight splendor
Of the Night's irradiate queen.

Audibly the elm-leaves whispered
Peaceful, pleasant melodies,
Like the distant murmured music
Of unquiet, lovely seas:
While the winds were hushed in slumber
In the fragrant flowers and trees.

Wondrous and unwonted beauty
Still adorning all did seem,
While I told my love in fables
'Neath the willows by the stream;
Would the heart have kept unspoken
Love that was its rarest dream!

Instantly away we wandered
In the shadowy twilight tide,
She, the silent, scornful maiden,
Walking calmly at my side,
With a step serene and stately,
All in beauty, all in pride.

Vacantly I walked beside her.
On the earth mine eyes were cast;
Swift and keen there came unto me
Ritter memories of the past
On me, like the rain in Autumn
On the dead leaves, cold and fast.

Underneath the elms we parted,
By the lowly cottage door;

One
brief word alone was uttered
Never on our lips before;
And
away I walked forlornly,
Broken-hearted evermore.

Slowly, silently I loitered,
Homeward, in the night, alone;
Sudden anguish bound my spirit,
That my youth had never known;
Wild unrest, like that which cometh
When the Night's first dream hath flown.

Now, to me the elm-leaves whisper
Mad, discordant melodies,

And
keen melodies like shadows
Haunt the moaning willow trees,
And
the sycamores with laughter
Mock me in the nightly breeze.
Sad
and pale the Autumn moonlight
Through the sighing foliage streams;
And
each morning, midnight shadow,
Shadow of my sorrow seems;

Strive, 0 heart, forget thine idol!
And, 0 soul, forget thy dreams !



More Great Books and Authors to Explore!
Edgar Allan Poe
Edgar Allan Poe
William Hope Hodgson
William Hope Hodgson
Secret Hiding Places
Secret Hiding Places
Egyptian Book of the Dead
Egyptian Book of the Dead


Sponsors:





Sponsors:





Articles About Books and Authors that Matter

The Fascinating Story of Medieval Libraries

The Lost Art of Embroidered Books

Holbein's Dance of Death: A Cheerily Macabre World View

Quotes About Books: Writers Writing About Books and the Art of Reading





Explore

Micro Nations: Sometimes the Smallest Countries Have the Biggest Dreams

George Cruikshank: A Moralistic Victorian Crusader With a Secret Life

Marguerite de Navarre: Queen, Feminist and Author of Raunchy Medieval Lit

The Weird and Wonderful Illustrations of Gustave Dore

World War One Propaganda Posters







Book-Lover.com has an eclectic collection of weird and unusual books online. Site Map | XML | RSS Feed | What's New | About Us | Privacy | Contact Us

Other Sites: CruikshankArt.com  ·  Dante's Inferno  ·  QuoteMonger.com  · Canterbury Tales  · Heptameron.info  · Shakespeare-1.com · DickensLit.com