To ----- By Edgar Allan Poe

TO -----
by Edgar Allan Poe
1829

Not long ago, the writer of these lines,
In the mad pride of intellectuality,
Maintained "the power of words"–denied that ever
A thought arose within the human brain
Beyond the utterance of the human tongue:
And now, as if in mockery of that boast,
Two words–two foreign soft dissyllables-
Italian tones, made only to be murmured
By angels dreaming in the moonlit "dew
That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill,"
Have stirred from out the abysses of his heart,
Unthought-like thoughts that are the souls of thought,
Richer, far wilder, far diviner visions
Than even seraph harper, Israfel,
(Who has "the sweetest voice of all God's creatures,")
Could hope to utter. And I! my spells are broken.
The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand.
With thy dear name as text, though bidden by thee,
I cannot write–I cannot speak or think-
Alas, I cannot feel; for 'tis not feeling,
This standing motionless upon the golden
Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams.
Gazing, entranced, adown the gorgeous vista,
And thrilling as I see, upon the right,
Upon the left, and all the way along,
Amid empurpled vapors, far away
To where the prospect terminates–thee only.

THE END
__________
I love how Mr. Poe was so speechless at the thought of those two words
that he wrote an entire poem about it.
I don't think we settled the matter of whic two words he refers to.
I think its the greeting of the letter.
It actually reminds me of a poem I had to write in OAC english
where the teacher gave us a line and we had to write the peom.
The line I had was "I would take words..."
I don't think I liked the poem I ended up writing.