Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary, wayworn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece
And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy Land!
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One of my favorite poems. It's certainly as beautiful as the subject it sets out to depict in its description!
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Brilliant
He can really give words more feeling then anyone could EVER do!! You just get lost in his poems even when they are short. His peotry will and still lives on and I can't get enough of it. I wish he was still alive so he could write some more. -
Why, why, why is Poe so shamefully ignored these days!?!?!?! I want to know ONE poet who in more recent days could produce one verse which could compare to these three. This man had a very rare talent. His mood here is that of 'wanderer'...his writing is that of a lighthouse which will forever be a landmark in literature, no matter how unread.
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I really loved this poem Poe was one of the brilliants of his time. He truly knew just how to word feeling in just the right way to captivate his reader in which so he did me in this poem. I think that it is truly great that Poe's work is still living in the pages of what was once the finest parchment ever made by the touch of the ink that released Poe's words so excellently.
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