The Works of Edgar Allan Poe
by Edgar Allan Poe
The Haunted Palace
- Year Published: 1903
- Language: English
- Country of Origin: United States of America
- Source: Poe, E.A. (1903). The Works of Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven Edition, Volume 5. New York: P. F. Collier and Son.
- Flesch–Kincaid Level: 8.0
- Word Count: 304
- Genre: Poetry
- Keywords: allegory, doom
- ✎ Cite This
Poe, E. (1903). The Haunted Palace. The Works of Edgar Allan Poe (Lit2Go Edition). Retrieved May 28, 2023, from https://etc.usf.edu/lit2go/147/the-works-of-edgar-allan-poe/5330/the-haunted-palace/
Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Haunted Palace." The Works of Edgar Allan Poe. Lit2Go Edition. 1903. Web. <https://etc.usf.edu/lit2go/147/the-works-of-edgar-allan-poe/5330/the-haunted-palace/>. May 28, 2023.
Edgar Allan Poe, "The Haunted Palace," The Works of Edgar Allan Poe, Lit2Go Edition, (1903), accessed May 28, 2023, https://etc.usf.edu/lit2go/147/the-works-of-edgar-allan-poe/5330/the-haunted-palace/.
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.
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 odour went away.
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
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.
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.
But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch's high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn!—for never sorrow
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.
And travellers, now, within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, lie a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh—but smile no more.