Text: Carlos D. Stuart, “Edgar A. Poe,” New York Tribune (New York, NY), October 16, 1849, vol. IX, no. 162, p. 4, col. 1

NOT for thyself too soon — the shaft,

The subtle shaft, of Death, was strung;

Yet for our sake, upon the bow

‘T were belter had the arrow hung;

For we miss thee, as when stars

Which brightly flashed upon our sight —

Fade out behind heav’n's cloudy bars,

And leave ns dark and shrouded night.

 

Thou wert a star in our soul world,

A bright and ever-burning star —

Shining forever through the sky,

Though fitful thou might's seem, and far,

When winging upward tov swift fight;

For through all spaces thou didst bear

Thy plumage, like an eagle wild,

Staring the light as eagle-spirits dare.

 

Though now thou livest in eternal light,

In light unquenchable — one starry space

Is darkened in our sky; thou art there!

For Death has taken, in our eyes, thy place;

Death glooms where thou shouldst shine, and yet,

If we could pierce his darkness, thou, afar,

We should behold, no more a pendalous light

But set in heaven, a fixed, immortal star!