Oooh, only just read your message on my profile page! Here's my 1st suggestion :)

The Panther by Rainer Maria Rilke

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.



Snape often reminds me of a caged panther

And of course

The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

Black Eyes by A. H. Laidlaw

The Blue Eye will do if the courting is through
And the way of the marriage is sunny,
And it helps in the fun till the sweet life is done
If the girl brings a mint of good money.
But when aft or before the good parson's front door,
With calm or a storm on the track;
For Love red, red hot, with the ducats or not,
There is never an eye like the Black.

The Hazel is true to you all the way through,
And it burns with a light warm and steady;
Only if it is Fred that she has in her head,
It is burning for no one but Freddie.
But the Black Eye will veer and stake kingdoms to spear
Whatever it likes on the track,
And as a love-lance to its lord in the dance
There is never an eye like the Black.

Here then is good health and without or with wealth
To the deep raven eye of my charmer!
It's a heavenly spell when it loves very well,
Only when it does not it is warmer.
And it's little I care, only so I get there,
Whichever I find on the track,
For Heaven or Hell in its magical spell
There is never an eye like the Black.

Comoloca, that is great. I'm not much of a poetry fan, so I have no contributions here, but so far I enjoy what you've posted.

@Comoloca - Oh My! Oh my! Oh my oh my oh my!

"for Heaven or Hell in its magical spell
There is never an eye like the Black"

And that wonderful pic!

Love it!

In A Dark Time by Theodore Roethke

In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood--
A lord of nature weeping to a tree,
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.

What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall,
That place among the rocks--is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.

A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is--
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.

Dark,dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.

:) Thank you jester616 and karenmiller1972

@karenmiller1972 : "What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair, " - it fits Snape perfectly!

Soul by Boris Pasternak

My mournful soul, you, sorrowing
For all my friends around,
You have become the burial vault
Of all those hounded down.

Devoting to their memory
A verse, embalming them,
In torment, broken, lovingly
Lamenting over them,

In this our mean and selfish time,
For conscience and for quest
You stand-a columbarium
To lay their souls to rest.

The sum of all their agonies
Has bowed you to the ground.
You smell of dust, of death's decay,
Of morgue and burial mound.

My beggarly, dejected soul,
You heard and saw your fill;
Remembered all and mixed it well,
And ground it like a mill.

Continue pounding and compound
All that I witnessed here
To graveyard compost, as you did
For almost forty years.

Fire and Ice - Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!


Rudyard Kipling

I Carry Your Heart With Me by E. E. Cummings

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

And link a video with Heath Ledger reading the last bit. It's from the movie Candy. There was another clip from the actual movie, but it had slight nudity.

Maelstrom

Can I live
in a perfect world?

Not to be whirled
around,
curled around
this madness
around,

and the sound
that is abound
in this world
around me.

I need escape
not rape
to see
what could be
my perfect world.

George Bernard Shaw

This is a section from Song of Solomon (the king James Version)

My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.
His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.
His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.
His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.
His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.
His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening


Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


Robert Frost

@ BlackHound: Love it! The last stanza specially was just...perfect

This one brings to mind Snape as a child looking forward to and wanting to leave Spinners end with Lily for somewhere better ie Hogwarts

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

Some of Shel Siverstein's poems are some of my favorite works.

Thank you, Comoloca

He was a truly talented man. He makes introducing poetry to children so easy. Apart from the fact that his children poems are great works onto themselves, you can lead them there trough his children's books, some of his funny cartoons or his music.

Ulysses by Tennyson

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honoured of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers;
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this grey spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

*****************************************­***­***­***­***

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me —
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads — you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.


(It was the last line that did it for me. To strive, to seek, to find, and - not - to - yield. That just was the most memorable line for me. Severus never yielded. Not from childhood mishap onward. He stayed the path.)

"Some prices are just too high, no mater how much you may want the prize. The one thing you can't trade for your heart's desire is your heart." Lois McMaster Bujold, Vorkosign fiction series.

Re-reading my books, makes me really think of Severus Snape.


(As always, no WP's are mine, but always good thoughts to those that have created them!)

I read this the other day and thought about how much it mirrored Albus Dumbledore's plans, it was like he thought in the style of the 'long game', forcing Voldemort into certain actions or enticing him into taking steps.... Very thoughtful, I just hate that in the books, Severus became one of the pieces, and in the movies, he didn't get the vindication that I wanted him to have. Ah, well.

"Skillfulness in moving an opponent about comes through
Positioning the opponent is compelled to follow
And gifts the opponent is compelled to take."
-Sun Tzu (? if I remember correctly)

Thought of the day:
"Only the strongest are put through the fire,
And the forge creates things of great strength and beauty."
-author, Sharon Shinn


(As always, not my fanart but I heartily approve because it is gorgeous, thank you to its creator!)

Thought of the morning:

In the uncertain hour before the morning
Near the ending of interminable night
At the recurrent end of the unending
-T.S. Eliot, poet


(Not my image, but thank you to the person who put it up.)

Emily Dickinson - Death

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

Nothing ever turns out quite the way any of us would like it. It's just that the young ones feel that they deserve it that way.
(I believe, from Lois McMaster Bujold, author)


I think the character of Severus Snape would say it is one of the main lessons he tried to teach his students, besides potions.
That sometimes the concept of fairness can be a wall to accomplishing what must be done. Worrying over fairness can sometimes impede justice.

I thought of something I had read a while back in my books. I can't remember what it was from, I wrote it down at the time because I wanted to think about it, (well, 2 somethings), unfortunately, I didn't write down the books they were from as well. If anyone knows what the quotes are from, please supply them, I would be grateful, as I try to never claim anything as my own that isn't (plus, I may want to go back and read the whole thing again just for those passages.....I have a whole room full of bookshelves wall to wall....LOL)

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you."

and

"Until you understand how the enemy thinks - so well that you can pass for one of his own - you have no hope of ever controlling him."

(As always, not my WP, but thanks to the creator, its gorgeously well done)

"Death is more universal than life; everyone dies but not everyone lives." A Sachs


That is one of the things that I wish we had found out more of. From the books and the movies, you get the perspective that for only a few years had Severus Snape actually got to 'live' his life. Sharing friendship with Lily before coming to the Marauders attention, before Deatheaters, after meeting Lily.

I guess that is the reason I found fanfiction, looking for hope that he had a chance to truly live his life, as there was not one in the series.

But, on a lighter note, I've always believe to truly live, you must experience love and laughter. So, I'm going to share the laughter, and hope you all find love.

Courtesy of Blackhound from my other forum on music. I'm moving all the poetry here.

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.


Mary E. Frye

No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks
- Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.



I heard this tonight, and it just - resounded - with meaning. Especially in conjunction with our favorite Professor.

Again, courtesy of Blackhound from my other forum.

GODS I love Mary Shelley. One of the most brilliant women who has ever put pen to paper.

It made me think of this, one of my all-time favorite lines from Lost in Space. Gary Oldman was a spectacular Dr. Smith...

"It's the world behind the world Dr. Robinson. Lie once, cheat twice, and everything becomes clear."

Maybe you have to know darkness before you can appreciate the light.
--Madeleine L'Engle

Think I've pulled all the poetry from the Back in Black forum. If I missed anything, let me know page and title and I'll pull it over if you want.

I think I've really loved revisiting all the items again.

My two favorites to read over again were Mary Shelley and Madeliene L'Engle. Odd that my two favorite were close to the last ones posted.

"Lofty timbers, the walls around are bare, echoing to our laughter as though the dead were there...Quaff a cup to the dead already, hooray for the next to die!"


Spoken by Lucy Westenra in Dracula (1931)

I love the reference. I read Dracula years ago and, like so many good books, there are lines and passages that just are memorable.

Thank you!

Because today's the anniversary of his death

His jouney's just begun by Ellen Brenneman

Don't think of him as gone away
his journey's just begun,
life holds so many facets
this earth is only one.

Just think of him as resting
from the sorrows and the tears
in a place of warmth and comfort
where there are no days and years.

Think how he must be wishing
that we could know today
how nothing but our sadness
can really pass away.

And think of him as living
in the hearts of those he touched...
for nothing loved is ever lost
and he was loved so much.

He is not lost our dearest love by Anonymous

He is not lost our dearest love,
Nor has he travelled far,
Just stepped inside home's loveliest room
And left the door ajar.


Image by by link from deviantart

@ComoLoca-thank you!

Lois McMaster Bujold - Paladin of Souls (book)

"Your Father calls you to His Home. You need not pack; you go garbed in glory as you stand. He waits eagerly by His palace doors to welcome you, and has prepared a place at His high table in the company of the great-souled, honored, and best-beloved. In this I speak true. Surely we are blessed for we bless each other. Be at reast in your heart."

I cannot remember what book I read this in, it wasn't one of the HP books, but it - touched, moved - me, none the less. I just remember reading it and feeling that, wow, this author has really experienced this.



"You cannot die of grief, though it feels as if you can. A heart does not actually break, though sometimes your chest aches as if it is breaking. Grief dims with time. It is the way of things. There comes a day when you smile again, and you feel like a traitor. 'How dare I feel happy? How dare I be glad in a world where the one I love is no more?' And then you cry fresh tears, because you do not miss that person as much as you once did, and giving up your grief is another kind of death."


In a way, I think in reading the books, that is truly what made Severus for me. To read about his past, and know, that he truly, out of all those teenage worrying about balls and competitions, he from his past to his present, he knew grief, he knew love, and he truly had experienced life.

"I will love the light for it shows me the way. Yet I will endure the darkness for it shows me the stars..."
-- Og Mandino

How Did You Die? by Edmund Vance Cooke

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there -- that's disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts,
It's how did you fight -- and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
But only how did you die?


Saw this on a youtube video by AkumaChibi

"It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
But only how did you die?"

@Cunha - well done!

I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me, and my enquiry is as to their working, and my problem is their subjugation and victory, down throw and upheaval, and my effort is their self-expression.”
― Dylan Thomas


Severus was a many sided and hidden depths kind of man. One that seemed to be constantly battling himself and others.

In Memoriam A. H. H. by Lord Alfred Tennyson

Dark House, by which once more I stand
Here in the long unlovely street,
Doors, where my heart was used to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand,
A hand that can be clasp'd no more--
Behold me, for I cannot sleep,
And like a guilty thing I creep
At earliest morning to the door.
He is not here; but far away
The noise of life begins again,
And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day.

“Alone”
“Alone”
By Edgar Allan Poe 1809–1849 Edgar Allan Poe
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 lov’d—I lov’d alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry 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 roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d 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—