TO __
The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see
The wantonest singing birds,
Are lips- and all thy melody
Of lip-begotten words-
Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrined,
Then desolately fall,
O God! on my funereal mind
Like starlight on a pall-
Thy heart- thy heart!- I wake and sigh,
And sleep to dream till day
Of the truth that gold can never buy-
Of the baubles that it may.
Chicago: Edgar Allan Poe, To __ Original Sources, accessed January 25, 2021, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=RHGTFJCEMECQJKJ.
MLA: Poe, Edgar Allan. To __, Original Sources. 25 Jan. 2021. www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=RHGTFJCEMECQJKJ.
Harvard: Poe, EA, To __. Original Sources, retrieved 25 January 2021, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=RHGTFJCEMECQJKJ.
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