To my Poe-ette (Leo Monkey) on her birthday
"Thou," I said, "art sure no craven."
rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name
silken sad uncertain rustling
beguiling my sad fancy into smiling
still the beating of my heart
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted
Ghastly
grim
and
ancient
Swung by Seraphim
the silence was unbroken
dreaming
dreams
no
mortals
ever
dared
to
dream
before
whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core
Nameless here for evermore.
Merely this and nothing more.