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The Eve Of Waterloo
Darkness
Prometheus
She walks in Beauty
And Thou art Dead, as Young and Fair


The Glove
Phantasy - To Laura
Rapture - To Laura
The Secret


Of the Lady Pietra degli Scrovigni
My lady carries love within her eyes
Death, always cruel
Of Beauty and Duty


To Luna
To the Distant One
The Fisherman
The Castle on the Mountain


The Raven
The Lake
Alone
A Dream Within a Dream


On His Blindness
On His Deceased Wife
To the Lady Margaret Ley
Light

Edgar Allan Poe - Alone



From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then - in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life - was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.