Poe’s Brother’s Poetry-Part Two
You can check out the first post here.
Now I shall continue my posting of William Henry Leonard Poe’s poetry.
For the North American.
Nay–’tis not so–it cannot be–
Those feelings ne’er will come again;
I gave my heart–my soul to thee,
And madly clasped the burning chain.
‘Tis severe’d now–and like the slave
When freed, will scorn the bars he wore,
And feels he would prefer the grave
Than wear those galling fetters more–
Yet not like him–for memory brings
A tear(?) to joys–to pleasures fled–
A something which still fondly clings–
“‘Tis vainly mourning o’er the dead.”
It cannot be! for pride will now
Relieve the anguish of my heart–
Thy faithless pledge! thy broken vow:
‘Tis fit–’tis meet–that we should part.
I’ve lov’d thee–but those hours are past
That bound my heart in woman’s wiles:
I’ve lov’d thee–but my fate is cast–
I trust no more to woman’s smiles.
To give a heart, as true as mine–
A soul,–whose hope was all in thee–
To love,–ay, love–till t’were a crime,
A dream–a madness–phantasy.
Yet still the pride, which once was mine,
Has come with all its force again–
And yet those eyes, those words of thine,
Hath wrung my heart with wildest pain.–
But fare thee well–I tremble not–
‘Tis madness too from thee to part–
To be as lost–as dead–forgot!–
Be still my wayward breaking heart!
Scenes of my lore(or love?)! of boyhood’s thoughtless hour!
I bid you now a long, a sad farewell;
Vision of Glory! where is now thy power!
Ah! where the charm that would my bosom swell.
The day of joy is gone, and veil’d the light
That shone on days too bright–too fair to last;–
My life is now a chill and starless night,
And mercury weeps with bitter tears the past.
The friends so loved–from the too I must fly–
The grave–the gay–the love of youth’s first spring,
When no sad tear had dimmed my laughing eye,
And all was fancy’s wish imagining.
Yes, all farewell! our gallant bark flies fast00
My native land gleams faintly on my view;
One more fond look-that look perhaps the last–
A long farewell–a mournful, sad adieu.
*Once again, the question marks are words that I am not able to discern.
**These pieces have been copied out of the book Poe’s Brother, by Hervey Allen and Thomas Ollive Mabbott, copyright 1926, book no. 773/1000.