1830 TO M__ by Edgar Allan Poe şiElectronically Enhanced Text (c) Copyright 1996, World Library(R) DAK Upgraded Edition, Copyright 2000, DAK Industries 2000, Inc(R)şI {TO_M TO M__ - O! I care not that my earthly lot Hath little of Earth in it, That years of love have been forgot In the fever of a minute: - I heed not that the desolate Are happier, sweet, than I, But that you meddle with my fate Who am a passer by. - It is not that my founts of bliss Are gushing- strange! with tears- Or that the thrill of a single kiss Hath palsied many years- - 'Tis not that the flowers of twenty springs Which have wither'd as they rose Lie dead on my heart-strings With the weight of an age of snows. - {^line 20} Not that the grass- O! may it thrive! On my grave is growing or grown- But that, while I am dead yet alive I cannot be, lady, alone. - - THE END