To F—— by Edgar Allan Poe

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 inland smile.



Note on To F——

“To F——” (Frances Sargeant Osgood) appeared in the Broadway Journal for April 1845. These lines are but slightly varied from those inscribed “To Mary,” in the Southern Literary Messenger for July 1835, and subsequently republished, with the two stanzas transposed, in Graham’s Magazine for March 1842, as “To One Departed.”

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