I
Thy soul shall find itself alone
’Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone—
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.
II
Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness—for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
In life before thee are again
In death around thee—and their will
Shall overshadow thee: be still.
III
The night, tho’ clear, shall frown—
And the stars shall look not down
From their high thrones in the heaven,
With light like Hope to mortals given—
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever.
IV
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne’er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more—like dew-drop from the grass.
V
The breeze—the breath of God—is still—
And the mist upon the hill,
Shadowy—shadowy—yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token—
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!
By Edgar Allan Poe
The use in comparison of silence-solitude, loneliness-the breath of God- is still really jumped out at me. He describes the differences in the lulls and fluctuations of our lives with understanding....that lack of connection does not mean loneliness...that solitude is like "the mist upon the hill, shadowy- shadowy- yet unbroken, is a symbol and a token-". I found myself thinking a lot of Sylvia Plath in this one, too. Edgard Allan Poe has always been known for his dark and grotesque writing style, but in this poem there feels the hope. The playful imagery with the contrast of hope and confusion for the lack thereof, but still a hope. I love this style of play...With Plath- the dread keeps going...the heaviness and loneliness and answerless thoughts of death, but Poe shares a dualist ongoing of a more simple understanding. I really like this one!!!
ReplyDelete