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DM 134

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Niefleheimstrasse

Porte D'entrée

 

David Arroyo

Millicent Eidson

Antonia Hildebrand

E. Martin Pedersen

Edgar Allan Poe

{below}

 

Fabrice Poussin

Ron Singer

Christian Ward

Stuart Watson

     

 

Edgar Allan Poe

The Haunted Palace

 

I

     In the greenest of our valleys,

       By good angels tenanted,

     Once a fair and stately palace—

       Radiant palace—reared its head.

     In the monarch Thought's dominion—

       It stood there!

     Never seraph spread a pinion

       Over fabric half so fair.

II

     Banners yellow, glorious, golden,

       On its roof did float and flow;

     (This—all this—was in the olden

       Time long ago)

     And every gentle air that dallied,

       In that sweet day,

     Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,

       A winged odor went away.

III

     Wanderers in that happy valley

       Through two luminous windows saw

     Spirits moving musically

       To a lute's well-tuned law,

     Round about a throne, where sitting

       (Porphyrogene!)

     In state his glory well befitting,

       The ruler of the realm was seen.

IV

     And all with pearl and ruby glowing

       Was the fair palace door,

     Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,

       And sparkling evermore,

     A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty

       Was but to sing,

     In voices of surpassing beauty,

       The wit and wisdom of their king.

V

     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.

VI

     And travelers now within that valley,

       Through the red-litten windows, see

     Vast forms that move fantastically

       To a discordant melody;

     While, like a rapid ghastly river,

       Through the pale door,

     A hideous throng rush out forever,

       And laugh—but smile no more.


 

 

 

Danse Macabre

An Online Literary Magazine

Celebrating 15 years 

publishing the finest in noir coloratura letters

from around the world & beyond the grave

Dedicated to my mom,

currently playing Deuces Wild Spin Poker

in the Niefleheimstrasse smokers' lounge

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