The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 5

DREAM-LAND

BY a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these lands but newly From an ultimate dim Thule-- From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime, Out of SPACE--out of TIME.

Bottomless vales and boundless floods, And chasms, and caves, and Titian woods, With forms that no man can discover For the dews that drip all over; Mountains toppling evermore Into seas without a shore; Seas that restlessly aspire, Surging, unto skies of fire; Lakes that endlessly outspread Their lone waters--lone and dead,-- Their still waters--still and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily.

By the lakes that thus outspread Their lone waters, lone and dead,-- Their sad waters, sad and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily,-- By the mountains--near the river Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,-- By the grey woods,--by the swamp Where the toad and the newt encamp,-- By the dismal tarns and pools Where dwell the Ghouls,-- By each spot the most unholy-- In each nook most melancholy,-- There the traveller meets aghast Sheeted Memories of the Past-- Shrouded forms that start and sigh As they pass the wanderer by-- White-robed forms of friends long given, In agony, to the Earth--and Heaven.

For the heart whose woes are legion 'Tis a peaceful, soothing region-- For the spirit that walks in shadow 'Tis--oh 'tis an Eldorado! But the traveller, travelling through it, May not--dare not openly view it; Never its mysteries are exposed To the weak human eye unclosed; So wills its King, who hath forbid The uplifting of the fringed lid; And thus the sad Soul that here passes Beholds it but through darkened glasses.

By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have wandered home but newly From this ultimate dim Thule.

1844.