He was a poet, and ye know it.

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule-
From a wild clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE- out of TIME.

Dreamland (Edgar Alan Poe, 1844)

Happy 162nd birthday, E.A.P.

update: Evidence that I’ve been playing too much City of Heroes is that particular class of villain was the first thing I thought of when this poem mentioned the word eidolon. (Also a race of aliens on Farscape and a D&D monster.) Yes, I am a geek, thankew.

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3 Responses to He was a poet, and ye know it.

  1. Karan says:

    Just think, if Edgar had been born just 89 years earlier, he’d be celebrating his 251st birthday!

  2. Mamacita says:

    “Ultima Thule. . . .” Sigh. Doesn’t everybody fantasize about it sometimes? Anne of Green Gables talked about it. That’s why I fell in love with those books.

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