Fanny Edgar Allan Poe

The dying swan by northern lakes
        Sings its wild death song, sweet and clear,
And as the solemn music breaks
        O’er hill and glen dissolves in air;
Thus musical thy soft voice came,
Thus trembled on thy tongue my name.

Like sunburst through the ebon cloud,
        Which veils the solemn midnight sky,
Piercing cold evening’s sable shroud,
        Thus came the first glance of that eye;
But like the adamantine rock,
My spirit met and braved the shock.

Let memory the boy recall
        Who laid his heart upon thy shrine,
When far away his footsteps fall,
        Think that he deem’d thy charms divine;
A victim on love’s alter altar slain,
By witching eyes which looked disdain.