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Edgar Allan Poe
Dream-Land

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule β€”
From a wild clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE β€” out of TIME.

Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the tears that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters β€” lone and dead, β€”
Their still waters β€” still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.

By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead, β€”
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily, β€”
By the mountains β€” near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever, β€”
By the grey woods, β€” by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp β€”
By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls, β€”
By each spot the most unholy β€”
In each nook most melancholy β€”
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the Past β€”
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by β€”
White β€”robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth β€” and Heaven.

For the heart whose woes are legion
'Tis a peaceful, soothing region β€”
For the spirit that walks in shadow
'Tis β€” oh, 'tis an Eldorado!
But the traveller, travelling through it,
May not β€” dare not openly view it!
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringed lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.