To M__

Author: Edgar Allan Poe  | Date: 1830

TO M__

O! I care not that my earthly lot

Hath little of Earth in it,

That years of love have been forgot

In the fever of a minute:

I heed not that the desolate

Are happier, sweet, than I,

But that you meddle with my fate

Who am a passer by.

It is not that my founts of bliss

Are gushing- strange! with tears-

Or that the thrill of a single kiss

Hath palsied many years-

’Tis not that the flowers of twenty springs

Which have wither’d as they rose

Lie dead on my heart-strings

With the weight of an age of snows.

Not that the grass- O! may it thrive!

On my grave is growing or grown-

But that, while I am dead yet alive

I cannot be, lady, alone.

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Chicago: Edgar Allan Poe, To M__ Original Sources, accessed June 24, 2024, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=4W3ZSZG6MPYJCC3.

MLA: Poe, Edgar Allan. To M__, Original Sources. 24 Jun. 2024. http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=4W3ZSZG6MPYJCC3.

Harvard: Poe, EA, To M__. Original Sources, retrieved 24 June 2024, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=4W3ZSZG6MPYJCC3.