Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | October 31, 2008

POEM OF THE DAY: The Haunted Palace

by Edgar Allan Poe (1809 – 1849).


The Haunted Palace


       In the greenest of our valleys

         By good angels tenanted,

       Once a fair and stately palace-

         Radiant palace- reared its head.

       In the monarch Thought’s dominion-                                 5

         It stood there!

       Never seraph spread a pinion

         Over fabric half so fair!


       Banners yellow, glorious, golden,

         On its roof did float and flow,                                            10

       (This- all this- was in the olden

         Time long ago,)

       And every gentle air that dallied,

         In that sweet day,

       Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,                            15

         A winged odor went away.


       Wanderers in that happy valley,

         Through two luminous windows, saw

       Spirits moving musically,

         To a lute’s well-tuned law,                                                  20

       Round about a throne where, sitting


       In state his glory well-befitting,

         The ruler of the realm was seen.


       And all with pearl and ruby glowing                                  25

         Was the fair palace door,

       Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,

         And sparkling evermore,

       A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty

         Was but to sing,                                                                     30

       In voices of surpassing beauty,

         The wit and wisdom of their king.


       But evil things, in robes of sorrow,

         Assailed the monarch’s high estate.

       (Ah, let us mourn!- for never morrow                               35

         Shall dawn upon him desolate!)

       And round about his home the glory

         That blushed and bloomed,

       Is but a dim-remembered story

         Of the old time entombed.                                                40


       And travellers, now, within that valley,

         Through the red-litten windows see

       Vast forms, that move fantastically

         To a discordant melody,

       While, like a ghastly rapid river,                                          45

         Through the pale door

       A hideous throng rush out forever

         And laugh- but smile no more.



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