In the stillness of the night, whispers call,
Echoes of a soul in endless plight,
Through the veil of shadows, heeding the fall,
Poe’s spirit wanders, searching for the light.

Beneath the raven’s mournful gaze, he lies,
In dreams entwined with sorrow’s chilling breath,
The gentle rustle of forgotten sighs,
A requiem for the poet’s dance with death.

The moonlight bathes the silent grave in grace,
Where tales of mystery and dread unfold,
In cryptic verses, time cannot erase,
His legacy in whispers softly told.

Rest now, dear Poe, ‘neath the starry sky,
In death’s embrace, your words forever soar,
As shadows linger, and the night winds sigh,
Your haunting echoes shall return no more.