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By Edgar Allan Poe

Helen, thy beauty is to me

   Like those Nicéan barks of yore,

That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,

   The weary, way-worn wanderer bore

   To his own native shore.


On desperate seas long wont to roam,

   Thy hyacinth 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 window-niche

   How statue-like I see thee stand,

The agate lamp within thy hand!

   Ah, Psyche, from the regions which

   Are Holy-Land!


  • Activities
  • Love
  • Mythology & Folklore

Poet Bio

Edgar Allan Poe
Edgar Allan Poe was born in Boston, Massachusetts, and raised in Richmond, Virginia, by a foster family. In his poetry and fiction, Poe explored the dark inner workings of the mind. He is credited with being a forerunner of horror fiction and of the short story as a literary form. After years of depression and alcoholism, Poe died mysteriously at age 40. See More By This Poet

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