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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373658" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Israfel</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In Heaven a spirit doth dwell<br> &quot;Whose heart-strings are a lute&quot;;<br> None sing so wildly well<br> As the angel Israfel,<br> And the giddy stars (so legends tell),<br> Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell<br> Of his voice, all mute.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Tottering above<br> In her highest noon,<br> The enamored moon<br> Blushes with love,<br> While, to listen, the red levin<br> (With the rapid Pleiads, even,<br> Which were seven,)<br> Pauses in Heaven.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And they say (the starry choir<br> And the other listening things)<br> That Israfeli's fire<br> Is owing to that lyre<br> By which he sits and sings-<br> The trembling living wire<br> Of those unusual strings.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But the skies that angel trod,<br> Where deep thoughts are a duty-<br> Where Love's a grown-up God-<br> Where the Houri glances are<br> Imbued with all the beauty<br> Which we worship in a star.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Therefore thou art not wrong,<br> Israfeli, who despisest<br> An unimpassioned song;<br> To thee the laurels belong,<br> Best bard, because the wisest!<br> Merrily live, and long!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The ecstasies above<br> With thy burning measures suit-<br> Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,<br> With the fervor of thy lute-<br> Well may the stars be mute!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Yes, Heaven is thine; but this<br> Is a world of sweets and sours;<br> Our flowers are merely- flowers,<br> And the shadow of thy perfect bliss<br> Is the sunshine of ours.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> If I could dwell<br> Where Israfel<br> Hath dwelt, and he where I,<br> He might not sing so wildly well<br> A mortal melody,<br> While a bolder note than this might swell<br> From my lyre within the sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edgar+Allan+Poe">Edgar Allan Poe</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373658" data-title="Israfel de Edgar Allan Poe" data-description="In Heaven a spirit doth dwell
 &quot;Whose heart-strings are a lute&quot;;
 None sing so wildly well
 As the angel Israfel,
 And the giddy stars (so legends tell),
 Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell
 Of his voice, all mute.

 Tottering above
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