The House of the Elders as by  Edgar Allan Poe

The kingdom beyond the sundering sea
Lay shrouded in shadows deep.
Dull and drowsy, as in a dream,
Longing for rest and sleep,
I passed through the valley of maidens long gone  –
Alas!  –  I could hear them weep!

And there, by a route long forgotten by man,
Having all but accepted my doom,
I entered a garden of moss and stone
Surrounding a mansion in gloom.
Weary and trembling I tapped at the door
In need of a bed and a room.

Without a sound the door opened wide,
Revealing a pallid face:
An usher  –  two hands, reaching out as I fell
(Yes, I fell into sheer disgrace!)
For illness and fear overtook me then,
And I swooned  –  out of time, out of space.

Ah, ghastly dreams! My soul was ablaze,
Till my senses returned once more.
Cold and shivering, flat on my back,
I aroused on a stony floor.
The usher awaited me; urging me on,
He granted me rest no more.

I humbly presented my simple request:
A room and a bed for the night.
My pallid host seemed to ponder my words,
But his lips were sealed, very tight.
At length, as we stopped at a door, he spoke:
“I can't say, but my father might”.

Crouching in front of a fervid hearth
The father was tending the fire.
But neither he  –  though he heeded my plea  –
Could promise to let me retire.
Melancholic, while raking the coals,
He told me to see his sire.

The next room I entered was covered in dust,
Surrendered to age and decay.
And there, in a tattered chair, sat a man  –
Elderly, withered and gray.
He gave no reply but a weary smile,
when I asked his permission to stay.

And so I proceeded, to room after room;
From father to father I turned.
But no-one could answer, nobody knew,
None but  –  I finally learned  –
The seventh; a grisly, distorted ghoul;
He granted the rest I had earned!

And so it did happen, long time ago,
Where no maiden dwell anymore,
Where men live forever, deprived of their will,
Enduring the curse they deplore,  –
I slept but I night in this sinister house,
And then, ever since; no more.
    Alas!  –  I shall sleep nevermore!

abre © 2008