Fairy-Land by Edgar Allan Poe
"Fairy-Land" was originally titled "Heaven," and was written while Poe was still at West Point. It wasn't until the September 1829 issue of The Yankee and Boston Literary Gazette. Of course, the journal's owner introduced it as "nonsense", but praised Poe for having great promise as a writer.
The journals introduction was as follows: "If E. A. P. of Baltimore - whose lines about 'Heaven,' though he professes to regard them as altogether superior to any thing in the whole range of American poetry, save two or three trifles referred to, are, though nonsense, rather exquisite nonsense - would but do himself justice, might make a beautiful and perhaps magnificent poem. There is a good deal to justify such a hope."
This poem speaks of a "fairy land" which sounds a lot like real life. It speaks mainly about the moon moving across they sky and then the sun coming up and doing the same.
Fairy-Land Dim vales- and shadowy floods- And cloudy-looking woods, Whose forms we can't discover For the tears that drip all over! Huge moons there wax and wane- Again- again- again- Every moment of the night- Forever changing places- And they put out the star-light With the breath from their pale faces. About twelve by the moon-dial, One more filmy than the rest (A kind which, upon trial, They have found to be the best) Comes down- still down- and down, With its centre on the crown Of a mountain's eminence, While its wide circumference In easy drapery falls Over hamlets, over halls, Wherever they may be- O'er the strange woods- o'er the sea- Over spirits on the wing- Over every drowsy thing- And buries them up quite In a labyrinth of light- And then, how deep!- O, deep! Is the passion of their sleep. In the morning they arise, And their moony covering Is soaring in the skies, With the tempests as they toss, Like- almost anything- Or a yellow Albatross. They use that moon no more For the same end as before- Videlicet, a tent- Which I think extravagant: Its atomies, however, Into a shower dissever, Of which those butterflies Of Earth, who seek the skies, And so come down again, (Never-contented things!) Have brought a specimen Upon their quivering wings. Written in 1829.
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