In shadows deep and whispers low,
Where moonlight’s pale, soft glimmers glow,
There lies the soul of Poe, entwined,
In death’s embrace, with peace to find.
The raven’s call, a mournful song,
Echoes where his heart belongs,
In crypts of sorrow, dark and vast,
His spirit roams, a shadow cast.
Beneath the stars, where silence reigns,
He wanders through the nightâs remains,
A poet lost in deathâs domain,
Forever bound by grief and pain.
Yet in this twilight, dreams arise,
A world unseen by mortal eyes,
Where Poe’s dark verses softly flow,
In death, his legacy does grow.