A Pæan
by Edgar Allan Poe

I

How shall the burial rite be read?
    The solemn song be sung ?
The requiem for the loveliest dead,
    That ever died so young?

II

Her friends are gazing on her,
    And on her gaudy bier,
And weep ! - oh! to dishonor
    Dead beauty with a tear!

III

They loved her for her wealth -
    And they hated her for her pride -
But she grew in feeble health,
    And they love her - that she died.

IV

They tell me (while they speak
    Of her "costly broider'd pall")
That my voice is growing weak -
    That I should not sing at all -

V

Or that my tone should be
    Tun'd to such solemn song
So mournfully - so mournfully,
    That the dead may feel no wrong.

VI

But she is gone above,
    With young Hope at her side,
And I am drunk with love
    Of the dead, who is my bride. -

VII

Of the dead - dead who lies
    All perfum'd there,
With the death upon her eyes,
    And the life upon her hair.

VIII

Thus on the coffin loud and long
    I strike - the murmur sent
Through the grey chambers to my song,
    Shall be the accompaniment.

IX

Thou died'st in thy life's June -
    But thou did'st not die too fair:
Thou did'st not die too soon,
    Nor with too calm an air.

X

From more than fiends on earth,
    Thy life and love are riven,
To join the untainted mirth
    Of more than thrones in heaven -

XII

Therefore, to thee this night
    I will no requiem raise,
But waft thee on thy flight,
    With a Pæan of old days.