Autumnal Equinox, Weymouth Bay
Beleaguered on all sides,
fate has dealt me a stifling blow;
yet, I marvel at this precious earth
with the Harvest Moon in tow.
Buffered by the isles brilliant lakes
in the blue tapestries of the sea
the threads of love slip my embrace
and I tremble at what must be.
In late September the last warming rays
inspiring rests on me
nights are the loveliest in Weymouth Bay
protecting me from the sea.
Roving England's southern coast her pliant
chalk downs bedevil my eyes
centuries they stand awash in silence
demurred by the fleckless skies.
Built on the backs of the mineral salts
shallow oceans left behind
carved by the troughs of receding shores
bleeding white in faultless lines.
Majestic I soar with a subtle sight
while climbing green Dorcet hills
I view the world from these marvelous heights
where the hands of time lie still.
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(September 25, 1930 – May 10, 1999)
(13 February 1879 - 2 March 1949)
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