In the stillness of the midnight hour,
Where dreams and shadows intertwine,
There lies a love, both sweet and sour,
In the heart of Poe, forever thine.

Through the whispers of the autumn breeze,
His words of love, a haunting rhyme,
In every verse, a soul’s deep pleas,
For the woman lost to time.

Beneath the moon’s pale, silvery glow,
His pen would dance, a somber waltz,
In every line, his love would show,
A passion pure, without a fault.

Though realms of darkness he explored,
His heart, a beacon in the night,
With every word, his love outpoured,
For his beloved, his guiding light.