To —— 

     I heed not that my earthly lot

         Hath-little of Earth in it—

     That years of love have been forgot

     In the hatred of a minute:—

     I mourn not that the desolate

         Are happier, sweet, than I,

     But that you sorrow for my fate

     Who am a passer-by.
Credit

This poem is in the public domain. 

About this Poem

From The Works of Edgar Allan Poe in Five Volumes: The Raven Edition (P.F. Collier, 1902)