Eulalie

Eulalie by Edgar Allan Poe 

Story copied from the Wikisource.

Warning: This is a Poe's Poetry.

EULALIE.— A SONG.

BY EDGAR A. POE.

I dwelt alone In a world of moan. And my soul was a stagnant tide, Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride— Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride.

Ah, less—less bright The stars of the night Than the eyes of the radiant girl. And never a flake That the vapor can make With the morn-tints of purple and pearl. Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl— Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and careless curl.

Now Doubt—now Pain Come never again. For her soul gives me sigh for sigh. While all day long Shines, bright and strong, Astarté within the sky. And ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye— And ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.