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Poem by Edgar Allan Poe


To Helen


Helen, thy beauty is to me
    Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
    The weary, wayworn wanderer bore
    To his own native shore.

On desperate seas long wont to roam,
    Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
    to the glory that was Greece
And the grandeur that was Rome.

Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
    How statue-like I see thee stand,
    The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
    Are Holy Land! 

1831

Edgar Allan Poe


Edgar Allan Poe's other poems:
  1. An Acrostic
  2. The Divine Right of Kings
  3. Sancta Maria
  4. Enigma
  5. To the River


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