In shadows deep, where silence weeps,
Lies a soul, in eternal sleep.
The raven’s call, a mournful song,
Echoes where the heart belongs.

Beneath the moon, a fading light,
Poe’s spirit wanders through the night.
His words, a haunting, timeless grace,
In every line, his soul we trace.

The clock chimes softly, marking time,
As memories in verses rhyme.
The melancholy of his prose,
Forever in the night wind blows.

Rest now, poet, in shadows cast,
Your legacy, a spell to last.
In quietude, your dreams take flight,
A beacon in the endless night.