And we passed to the end of the vista,

But were stopped by the door of a tomb-
By the door of a legended tomb;

And I said- "What is written, sweet sister,
On the door of this legended tomb ?"
She replied "Ulalume-Ulalume-
'Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!"

ΤΟ

Then my heart it grew ashen and sober

As the leaves that were crispèd and sereAs the leaves that were withering and sere, And I cried-"It was surely October

On this very night of last year

That I journeyed-I journeyed down here-
That I brought a dread burden down here-
On this night of all nights in the year,
Ah, what demon has tempted me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber—
This misty mid region of Weir-

Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber,
This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir."

TO MY MOTHER.

ECAUSE I feel that, in the heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of "Mother,"
Therefore by that dear name I long have called
you-

You who are more than mother unto me,

And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed

you

In setting my Virginia's spirit free.

My mother my own mother, who died early,
Was but the mother of myself; but you

Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,

And thus are dearer than the mother I knew

By that infinity with which my wife
Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.

What a world of merriment their melody foretells!

How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,

In the icy air of night!