A little Edgar Allen to spice up your Monday

TO MY MOTHER

Because, I feel that, in the heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devoted as that of “Mother,”
Therefore by that dear name I long to have called you–
You who are more than mother unto me,
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you,
In setting my Virginia’s spirit free.
My mother–my own mother, who died early,
Was but the mother of myself; but you
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,
And thus are dearer than the mother I Knew
By that infinity with which my wide
Was dearer to my soul than is soul-life.

by Edgar Allen Poe

Poe, Edgar Allan. Complete poems. New York: Gramercy Books ;, 1992. Print.

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