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And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
Aн, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown for ever!
See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!
RETCHES! ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride, And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her—that she died!
How shall the ritual, then, be read ?--the requiem how be sung By you-by yours, the evil eye,-by yours, the slanderous tongue
That did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?"
Peccavimus; but rave not thus! and let a Sabbath song
The sweet Lenore hath "gone before," with Hope, that flew beside,
The life upon her yellow hair, but not within her eyes—
"Avaunt! to-night my heart is light. No dirge will I upraise,