To One in ParadiseEdgar Allan PoeThou wast all that to me, love,
for which my soul did pine—
A green isle in the sea, love,
a fountain and a shrine,
all wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
and all the flowers were mine.
Ah, dream too bright to last!
Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
but to be overcast!
A voice from out the Future cries,
“On! On!”—but o'er the past
(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!
For, alas! alas! me
The light of Life is o'er!
“No more—no more—no more—”
(such language holds the solemn sea
to the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree
or the stricken eagle soar!
And all my days are trances,
and all my nightly dreams
Are where thy grey eye glances,
and where thy footstep gleams—
In what ethereal dances,
by what eternal streams.
In my talons, I shape clay, crafting life forms as I please.
Around me is a burgeoning empire of steel.
From my throne room, lines of power careen into the skies of Earth.
My whims will become lightning bolts that devastate the mounds of humanity.
Out of the chaos, they will run and whimper, praying for me to end their tedious anarchy.
I am drunk with this vision. God: the title suits me well.