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The Happiest Day, the Happiest Hour

by Edgar Allan Poe

The happiest day—the happiest hour

My sear’d and blighted heart hath known,

The highest hope of pride and power,

I feel hath flown.

Of power! said I? yes! such I ween;

But they have vanish’d long, alas!

The visions of my youth have been—

But let them pass.

And, pride, what have I now with thee?

Another brow may even inherit

The venom thou hast pour’d on me—

Be still, my spirit!

The happiest day—the happiest hour

Mine eyes shall see—have ever seen,

The brightest glance of pride and power,

I feel—have been:

But were that hope of pride and power

Now offer’d, with the pain

Even THEN I felt—that brightest hour

I would not live again:

For on its wing was dark alloy,

And, as it flutter’d—fell

An essence—powerful to destroy

A soul that knew it well.