1845
The Valley of Unrest
by Edgar Allan Poe
"The Valley of Unrest" was published in an edition
of 1831 under the title, "Valley of Nis." (see below)
Once
it smiled a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell;
They had gone unto the wars,
Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,
Nightly, from their azure towers,
To keep watch above the flowers,
In the midst of which all day
The red sunlight lazily lay.
Now each visitor shall confess
The sad valley's restlessness.
Nothing there is motionless-
Nothing save the airs that brood
Over the magic solitude.
Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees
That palpitate like the chill seas
Around the misty Hebrides!
Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven
That rustle through the unquiet Heaven
Uneasily, from morn till even,
Over the violets there that lie
In myriad types of the human eye-
Over the lilies there that wave
And weep above a nameless grave!
They wave: from out their fragrant tops
Eternal dews come down in drops.
They weep: from off their delicate stems
Perennial tears descend in gems.
-The End-
[This version of the poem bears only a slight
resemblance to its predecessor "The Valley Nis."]
1831
The Valley Nis
by Edgar Allan Poe
Far away far away
Far away as far at least
Lies that valley as the day
Down within the golden east
All things lovely are not they
Far away far away ?
It is called the valley Nis.
And a Syriac tale there is
Thereabout which Time hath said
Shall not be interpreted.
Something about Satan's dart
Something about angel wings
Much about a broken heart
All about unhappy things:
But "the valley Nis" at best
Means "the valley of unrest."
Once it smil'd a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell,
Having gone unto the wars
And the sly, mysterious stars,
With a visage full of meaning,
O'er the unguarded flowers were leaning:
Or the sun ray dripp'd all red
Thro' the tulips overhead,
Then grew paler as it fell
On the quiet Asphodel.
Now the unhappy shall confess
Nothing there is motionless:
Helen, like thy human eye
There th' uneasy violets lie
There the reedy grass doth wave
Over the old forgotten grave
One by one from the tree top
There the eternal dews do drop
There the vague and dreamy trees
Do roll like seas in northern breeze
Around the stormy Hebrides
There the gorgeous clouds do fly,
Rustling everlastingly,
Through the terror-stricken sky,
Rolling like a waterfall
O'er th' horizon's fiery wall
There the moon doth shine by night
With a most unsteady light
There the sun doth reel by day
"Over the hills and far away."
-The End-
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