This page may contain affiliate links, for which we may receive a small commission at no extra cost to you. This helps support Love Letters to Poe.
I dwelt alone In a world of moan, And my soul was a stagnant tide Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride — Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride.
Ah, less, less bright The stars of the night Than the eyes of the radiant girl, And never a flake That the vapor can make With the moon-tints of purple and pearl Can vie with the modest Eulalie’s most unregarded curl — Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie’s most humble and careless curl.
Now Doubt — now Pain Come never again, For her soul gives me sigh for sigh And all day long Shines bright and strong Astarté within the sky, While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye — While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.