The Valley Of Unrest


Edgar Allan Poe

Far away--far away--

Far away--as far at least--

Lies that valley as the day

Down within the golden east--

All things lovely--are not they

Far away?--far away?

It is called the valley Nis.

And a Syriac tale there is

Thereabout which Time hath said

Shall not be interpreted.

Something about Satan's dart--

Something about angel wings--

Much about a broken heart--

All about unhappy things:

But "the valley Nis" at best

Means "the valley of unrest."

Once it smiled a silent dell

Where the people did not dwell,

Having gone unto the wars--

And the sly mysterious stars,

With a visage full of meaning,

O'er the unguarded flowers were leaning:

Or the sun ray dripped all red

Thro' the tulips overhead,

Then grew paler as it fell

On the quiet Asphodel.

Now the unhappy shall confess

Nothing there is motionless:

Helen, like thy human eye

There th' uneasy violets lie--

There the reedy grass shall wave

Over the old forgotten grave--

One by one from the tree top

There the eternal dews do drop--

There the vague and dreamy trees

Do roll like seas in northern breeze

Around the stormy Hebrides--

There the gorgeous clouds do fly,

Rustling everlastingly.

Through the terror-stricken sky,

Rolling like a waterfall

O'er the horizon's fiery wall--

There the moon doth shine by night

With a most unsteady light--

There the sun doth reel by day

"Over the hills and far away."

And Helen, like thy human eye,

Low crouched on earth, some violets lie,

And, nearer Heaven, some lilies wave

All banner-like, above a grave.

And one by one, from out their tops

Eternal dews come down in drops,

Ah, one by one, from off their stems

Eternal dews come down in gems!


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