Yet silence came upon material things

Fair flowers, bright waterfalls and angel wings

And sound alone that from the spirit sprang

Bore burthen to the charm the maiden sang:

"'Neath blue-bell or streamer

Or tufted wild spray

That keeps, from the dreamer,

The moonbeam away

Bright beings! that ponder,

With half closing eyes,

On the stars which your wonder

Hath drawn from the skies,

Till they glance thro' the shade, and

Come down to your brow

Like - eyes of the maiden

Who calls on you now

Arise! from your dreaming

In violet bowers,

To duty beseeming

These star-litten hours

And shake from your tresses

Encumber'd with dew

The breath of those kisses

That cumber them too

(O! how, without you. Love!

Could angels be blest?)

Those kisses of true love

That lull'd ye to rest!

Up! - shake from your wing

Each hindering thing:

The dew of the night

It would weight down your flight;

And true love caresses

O! leave them apart!

They are light on the tresses,

But lead on the heart.

Ligeia! Ligeia!

My beautiful one!

Whose harshest idea

Will to melody run,

O! is it thy will

On the breezes to toss?

Or, capriciously still,

Like the lone Albatross,

Incumbent on night

(As she on the air)

To keep watch with delight

On the harmony there?

Ligeia! wherever

Thy image may be,

No magic shall sever

Thy music from thee.

Thou hast bound many eyes

In a dreamy sleep

But the strains still arise

Which _thy_ vigilance keep

The sound of the rain

Which leaps down to the flower,