Fairyland

Dim vales— and shadowy floods –And cloudy—looking woods,Whose forms we can’t discoverFor the tears that drip all over.Huge moons there wax and wane –Again – again – again –Every moment of the night –Forever changing places –And they put out the star—lightWith the breath from their pale faces;About twelve by the moon—dial,One, more filmy than the rest[A sort which, upon trial,They have found to be the best]Comes down – still down – and down,With its centre on the crownOf a mountain’s eminence,While its wide circumferenceIn easy drapery fallsOver hamlets, over halls,Wherever they may be –O’er the strange woods – o’er the sea –Over spirits on the wing –Over every drowsy thing –And buries them up quiteIn a labyrinth of light –And then, how deep! – O! deep!Is the passion of their sleep!In the morning they arise,And their moony coveringIs soaring in the skies,With the tempests as they toss,Like – almost anything –Or a yellow Albatross.They use that moon no moreFor the same end as before –Videlicet, a tent –Which I think extravagant:Its atomies, however,Into a shower dissever,Of which those butterfliesOf Earth, who seek the skies,And so come down again,[The unbelieving things!]Have brought a specimenUpon their quivering wings.1829                1845

l. 33, Like – almost anything: This line is appended with the following footnote in the original: “Plagiarism – see the works of Thomas Moore – passim – Edr.” This is another of Poe’s jokes, and indicates that the poem is a parody of Moore.

l. 37, Videlicet: namely, that is.