To Martin
Edgar Allen Poe
1823

Martin, thy beauty is to me
    Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a wine-dark sea,
    The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
    To his own native shore.

In desperate seas long want to roam,
    Thy willowy 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 portrait painting
    How statute-like I see thee stand,
    The leathery books on thy desk!
Ah! Psyche, from the regions which
    Are Holy Land!

 

 

Table of Tour Contents

Stop 1: Herrick Stop 2: Smart Stop 3: Blake Stop 4: Coleridge Stop 5: Shelley Stop 6: Poe

Stop 7: EB Browning Stop 8: Tennyson Stop 9: Dickinson Stop 10: WC Williams Stop 11: LFO