Alas! for that accursed time They bore thee o'er the billow, From love to titled age and crime, And an unholy pillow! From me, and from our misty clime, Where weeps the silver willow!
Interpretation
This quote expresses a sense of loss and sorrow due to the passage of time and the corruption of love.
In this poignant reflection, Edgar Allan Poe laments the journey of love twisted by time into something corrupt and painful. The imagery of the 'accursed time' and 'unholy pillow' suggests a romantic ideal that has been marred by societal expectations and moral decay, evoking deep emotions of longing and grief for what has been lost.
In practice
A speaker could use this quote during a poetry reading to illustrate the complexities of love.
But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate; (Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow Shall dawn upon him desolate!) And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed, Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.
Most writers - poets in especial - prefer having it understood that they compose by a species of fine frenzy - an ecstatic intuition - and would positively shudder at letting the public take a peep behind the scenes.
...the agony of my soul found vent in one loud, long and final scream of despair.
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best have gone to their eternal rest.
I could have clasped the red walls to my bosom as a garment of eternal peace. "Death," I said, "any death but that of the pit!" Fool! might I have not known that into the pit it was the object of the burning iron to urge me?
In our endeavors to recall to memory something long forgotten, we often find ourselves upon the very verge of remembrance, without being able, in the end, to remember.
When a child has a bad dream and wakes up crying, Dad goes and says, 'Don't be afraid, don't be scared. I'm here.' The Lord speaks this way, too... Usually, Christmas seems like a very noisy feast, but we can use a bit of silence to hear these words of love, closeness and tenderness.
She told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt After new fancies.
Love that is not jealous is neither true nor pure.
And you'll always love me won't you? Yes And the rain won't make any difference? No
Above all, I am motivated by the most mysterious drive we ever experience -that of love - I don't think there's any influence on my life that compares with love.
To love and win is the best thing. To love and lose, the next best.
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