A Valentine by Edgar Allan Poe
For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly the lines!- they hold a treasure
Divine- a talisman- an amulet
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure-
The words- the syllables! Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely comprehend the plot.
Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering
Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdus
Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets- as the name is a poet's, too,
Its letters, although naturally lying
Like the knight Pinto- Mendez Ferdinando-
Still form a synonym for Truth- Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do.
While scouring the web for an acceptably brief poem, I happened upon this work of Poe's and decided for today's sake to blog it. On the surface the poem is a beautifully written dedication to a love interest. On the first read-through I had it pegged as another eloquent testimony to the expression capabilities provided by verse. However, when I examined the piece further, the poem reveals itself as a testament to the inadequacy of the written word to convey the feeling of love, the fluid, unyielding force that has driven mankind to both its zenith and its nadir. The author begs the reader to embrace the poem's every word, every syllable, all nuances and subtleties, trying to transfer the workings of his heart to the recipient with a medium that cannot suffice. Poe is not belittling the intelligence of his love, but lamenting the confines within which he must work. Even a master such as he is bound to the skill of his language, which cannot compare to the emotions we humans are blessed and cursed with. In any event, happy St. Valentine's day to everybody.
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