An Enigma

Author: Edgar Allan Poe  | Date: 1848


"Seldom we find," says Solomon Don Dunce,

"Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet.

Through all the flimsy things we see at once

As easily as through a Naples bonnet-

Trash of all trash!- how can a lady don it?

Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff-

Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff

Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it."

And, veritably, Sol is right enough.

The general tuckermanities are arrant

Bubbles- ephemeral and so transparent-

But this is, now- you may depend upon it-

Stable, opaque, immortal- all by dint

Of the dear names that he concealed within ’t.

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Chicago: Edgar Allan Poe, An Enigma Original Sources, accessed May 11, 2021,

MLA: Poe, Edgar Allan. An Enigma, Original Sources. 11 May. 2021.

Harvard: Poe, EA, An Enigma. Original Sources, retrieved 11 May 2021, from