The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 2Poe, Edgar Allan
General
The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 2
Poe, Edgar Allan
American fiction -- 19th century; Fantasy fiction; Horror tales, American; Short stories
The margin of the river, and of the many dazzling rivulets that
glided through devious ways into its channel, as well as the
spaces that extended from the margins away down into the depths
of the streams until they reached the bed of pebbles at the
bottom,—these spots, not less than the whole surface of the
valley, from the river to the mountains that girdled it in, were
carpeted all by a soft green grass, thick, short, perfectly even,
and vanilla-perfumed, but so besprinkled throughout with the
yellow buttercup, the white daisy, the purple violet, and the
ruby-red asphodel, that its exceeding beauty spoke to our hearts
in loud tones, of the love and of the glory of God.
And, here and there, in groves about this grass, like
wildernesses of dreams, sprang up fantastic trees, whose tall
slender stems stood not upright, but slanted gracefully toward
the light that peered at noon-day into the centre of the valley.
Their mark was speckled with the vivid alternate splendor of
ebony and silver, and was smoother than all save the cheeks of
Eleonora; so that, but for the brilliant green of the huge leaves
that spread from their summits in long, tremulous lines, dallying
with the Zephyrs, one might have fancied them giant serpents of
Syria doing homage to their sovereign the Sun.
Hand in hand about this valley, for fifteen years, roamed I with
Eleonora before Love entered within our hearts. It was one
evening at the close of the third lustrum of her life, and of the
fourth of my own, that we sat, locked in each other’s embrace,
beneath the serpent-like trees, and looked down within the water
of the River of Silence at our images therein. We spoke no words
during the rest of that sweet day, and our words even upon the
morrow were tremulous and few. We had drawn the God Eros from
that wave, and now we felt that he had enkindled within us the
fiery souls of our forefathers. The passions which had for
centuries distinguished our race, came thronging with the fancies
for which they had been equally noted, and together breathed a
delirious bliss over the Valley of the Many-Colored Grass. A
change fell upon all things. Strange, brilliant flowers,
star-shaped, burn out upon the trees where no flowers had been
known before. The tints of the green carpet deepened; and when,
one by one, the white daisies shrank away, there sprang up in
place of them, ten by ten of the ruby-red asphodel. And life
arose in our paths; for the tall flamingo, hitherto unseen, with
all gay glowing birds, flaunted his scarlet plumage before us.
The golden and silver fish haunted the river, out of the bosom of
which issued, little by little, a murmur that swelled, at length,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account