A Route Obscure

[Edgar Allan Poe - Dream-Land]

By a route obscure and lonely
Haunted  by ill angels only
From  a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime
Out of space, out of time

By the mountains—near the river
Murmuring  lowly, murmuring ever
By  the grey woods,—by the swamp
By each spot the most unholy—

In  each nook most melancholy,—
There the traveller meets, aghast
Sheeted Memories of the Past—
Shrouded forms that start and sigh

As  they pass the wanderer by—
But the traveller, travelling through it
May not—dare not openly view it;
Never its mysteries are exposed

To the weak human eye unclosed;
By a route obscure and lonely
Haunted by ill angels only
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule