Beloved! amid the earnest woes
That crowd around my earthly path---
(Dear path, alas! where grows
Not even one lonely rose)---
My soul at least a solace hath
In dreams of thee, and therein knows
An Eden of bland repose.

And thus my memory is to me
Like some enchanted far-off isle
In some tumultuous sea---
Some ocean throbbing far and free
With storms---but where meanwhile
Serenest  skies continually
Just o'er that one bright island smile.

                                    *Edgar Allen Poe