When the dawn is red and the air is cool,
Yet never the grass is grey with snow.
They use the world for her that we rule,
Yet never the right for years to know.
Long it may bring with a flaming knife,
Find ever the more than its own love,
As we will go by the use of life.
Because they were in the world above.
I have been reading a lot of Edgar Allan Poe recently. I started re-reading some of his more famous works around Halloween, but have been delving even deeper into a few of his more obscure writings.