Den fineste delen av bokhyllen, mitt tøffeste bokmerke og min nydelige notatbok med Edgar Allan Poe:
"O, she was worthy of all love!
Love–as in infancy was mine-
'Twas such as angel minds above
Might envy; her young heart the shrine
On which my every hope and thought
Were incense–then a goodly gift,
For they were childish and upright-
Pure–as her young example taught:
Why did I leave it, and, adrift,
Trust to the fire within, for light?"