De: The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 5
TO ——
I heed not that my earthly lot
Hath-little of Earth in it—
That years of love have been forgot
In the hatred of a minute:—
I mourn not that the desolate
Are happier, sweet, than I,
But that you sorrow for my fate
Who am a passer-by.
1829.
"La buena escritura es como un cristal de ventana." — George Orwell