by Edgar Allan Poe

Published 1845

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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.

Eulalie,” one of many poems by Edgar Allan Poe, was first published in 1845.