Edgar Allan Poe: Poems of Edgar Allan Poe

67. THE VILLAGE STREET (continued)

Now, to me the elm-leaves whisper
    Mad, discordant melodies,
And keen melodies like shadows
    Haunt the moaning willow trees,
And the sycamores with laughter
    Mock me in the nightly breeze.

Sad and pale the Autumn moonlight
    Through the sighing foliage streams;
And each morning, midnight shadow,
    Shadow of my sorrow seems;
Strive, 0 heart, forget thine idol!
    And, 0 soul, forget thy dreams !