To M. L. S__

Author: Edgar Allan Poe  | Date: 1847

TO M. L. S__

Of all who hail thy presence as the morning-

Of all to whom thine absence is the night-

The blotting utterly from out high heaven

The sacred sun- of all who, weeping, bless thee

Hourly for hope- for life- ah! above all,

For the resurrection of deep-buried faith

In Truth- in Virtue- in Humanity-

Of all who, on Despair’s unhallowed bed

Lying down to die, have suddenly arisen

At thy soft-murmured words, "Let there be light!"

At the soft-murmured words that were fulfilled

In the seraphic glancing of thine eyes-

Of all who owe thee most- whose gratitude

Nearest resembles worship- oh, remember

The truest- the most fervently devoted,

And think that these weak lines are written by him-

By him who, as he pens them, thrills to think

His spirit is communing with an angel’s.

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Chicago: Edgar Allan Poe, To M. L. S__ Original Sources, accessed January 25, 2021, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=2MFNYZ6FFHRJG1S.

MLA: Poe, Edgar Allan. To M. L. S__, Original Sources. 25 Jan. 2021. www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=2MFNYZ6FFHRJG1S.

Harvard: Poe, EA, To M. L. S__. Original Sources, retrieved 25 January 2021, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=2MFNYZ6FFHRJG1S.