Explore "To F" by Edgar Allan Poe on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Beloved! amid the earnest woes / That crowd around my earthly path --
(Drear path, alas! where grows / Not even one lonely rose) --
My soul at least a solace hath / In dreams of thee, and therein knows / An Eden of bland repose.
And thus thy memory is to me / Like some enchanted far-off isle / In some tumultuous sea --
Some ocean throbbing far and free / With storm -- but where meanwhile / Serenest skies continually / Just o'er that one bright island smile.