Reading and Reviewing of The Sleeper by Edgar Allan Poe.
I recently read the kindle version of The Complete Poems and Stories of Edgar Allan Poe (1946)
and amongst the many wonderful poems included in the book was a very fascinating, delighting, yet tragic poem that caught my attention -The Sleeper.
The Sleeper was written as a lyrical poem and was first published in the year 18361 and was later revised and republished in 1836 and 1845. The Sleeper, like most of Poe's other works, focuses on the death of a lost love, particularly a beautiful woman. The poem is inclined mostly towards romanticism- dark romanticism. Throughout the entire poem the protagonist(narrator) seems to be in complete denial that his beloved is indeed dead. Instead, he claims she is asleep!
The central idea of this poem is love. A love so strong that it continues to blossom even after death. The protagonist is so overwhelmed by this love that he fails to recognize that he is entrapping himself more and more in a dream.
Personally, I really enjoyed this poem. Being a huge Poe fan myself, I was quite excited to read the poem when a friend recommend it to me. This poem, to me in particular, was different from most of Edgar's other works. I found this one easier to digest in terms of the words, phrases, vocabulary, atmosphere, imagery and overall structure Poe uses in this poem.
Honestly, I found myself glancing quickly through this poem. It was so easy to grasp and I was just enjoying his eccentric writing style. Although I'll admit, I didn't really get the central message of the poem till after I went through it again; reading in between the lines and analyzing some figures of speech Edgar uses in this piece, I was able to appreciate the masterfulness of this poem.
The Sleeper is such an underrated poem honestly. Even Edgar Allan Poe once remarked saying "in the higher qualities of poetry, it is better than 'The Raven'—but there is not one man in a million who could be brought to agree with me in this opinion"
This is definitely in my Top 3 Edgar Allan poems right under The Raven. Yeah... you heard me right. I would definitely recommend this to anyone into poetry(dark, romantic, sad, or any genre really) to check out this poem. And if even if you don't like poetry... still read it!
It's well worth it. As is all of Poe's works really.
Anyway, you can read the poem here and can also check out the audio narration I did personally of the poem:
The Sleeper
BY EDGAR ALLAN POE
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
An opiate vapor, dewy, dim,
Exhales from out her golden rim,
And softly dripping, drop by drop,
Upon the quiet mountain top,
Steals drowsily and musically
Into the universal valley.
The rosemary nods upon the grave;
The lily lolls upon the wave;
Wrapping the fog about its breast,
The ruin moulders into rest;
Looking like Lethe, see! the lake
A conscious slumber seems to take,
And would not, for the world, awake.
All Beauty sleeps!—and lo! where lies
Irene, with her Destinies!
Oh, lady bright! can it be right—
This window open to the night?
The wanton airs, from the tree-top,
Laughingly through the lattice drop—
The bodiless airs, a wizard rout,
Flit through thy chamber in and out,
And wave the curtain canopy
So fitfully—so fearfully—
Above the closed and fringéd lid
’Neath which thy slumb’ring soul lies hid,
That, o’er the floor and down the wall,
Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall!
Oh, lady dear, hast thou no fear?
Why and what art thou dreaming here?
Sure thou art come o’er far-off seas,
A wonder to these garden trees!
Strange is thy pallor! strange thy dress!
Strange, above all, thy length of tress,
And this all solemn silentness!
The lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep,
Which is enduring, so be deep!
Heaven have her in its sacred keep!
This chamber changed for one more holy,
This bed for one more melancholy,
I pray to God that she may lie
Forever with unopened eye,
While the pale sheeted ghosts go by!
My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep,
As it is lasting, so be deep!
Soft may the worms about her creep!
Far in the forest, dim and old,
For her may some tall vault unfold—
Some vault that oft hath flung its black
And wingéd pannels fluttering back,
Triumphant, o’er the crested palls
Of her grand family funerals—
Some sepulchre, remote, alone,
Against whose portals she hath thrown,
In childhood, many an idle stone—
Some tomb from out whose sounding door
She ne’er shall force an echo more,
Thrilling to think, poor child of sin!
It was the dead who groaned within.
Source: The Complete Poems and Stories of Edgar Allan Poe (1946)
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