This is the one-year anniversary of The Raven Lunatic.
Thank you, dear readers, for following my rantings and ravings for an entire year. I hope the second year is even better.
My anniversary gift to you is from the heart. Please read out loud. Poetry, as I've said before, is meant to be read out loud. While this metered masterpiece may feel strange and old-fashioned, the twist and turn of word is Poe's genius, in poetry or prose.
I hope you find your evening star.
Evening Star
Edgar Allan Poe
'Twas noontide of summer,
And mid-time of night;
And stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, thro' the light
Of the brighter, cold moon,
'Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
Her beam on the waves.
I gazed awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold- too cold for me-
There pass'd, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar,
And dearer thy beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.
