Deep in earth my love is lying And I must weep alone.
Interpretation
The quote expresses profound sorrow for a lost love and the loneliness that accompanies such grief.
In this poignant quote by Edgar Allan Poe, the speaker reveals the deep emotional anguish that comes from losing a loved one, suggesting that their love lies buried deep within the earth, symbolizing death. The act of weeping alone highlights the isolation and heartache that follows such a loss, emphasizing the weight of sorrow and the enduring connection to a departed partner.
In practice
This quote can be used in a eulogy to express the deep love and sorrow for a lost partner.
But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate; (Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow Shall dawn upon him desolate!) And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed, Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.
Most writers - poets in especial - prefer having it understood that they compose by a species of fine frenzy - an ecstatic intuition - and would positively shudder at letting the public take a peep behind the scenes.
...the agony of my soul found vent in one loud, long and final scream of despair.
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best have gone to their eternal rest.
I could have clasped the red walls to my bosom as a garment of eternal peace. "Death," I said, "any death but that of the pit!" Fool! might I have not known that into the pit it was the object of the burning iron to urge me?
In our endeavors to recall to memory something long forgotten, we often find ourselves upon the very verge of remembrance, without being able, in the end, to remember.
Desire, even in its wildest tantrums, can neither persuade me it is love nor stop me from wishing it were.
Every lover is, in his heart, a madman, and, in his head, a minstrel.
We forget some of the oldest medicines we have are love and compassion, and they can be deployed by everyone.
Love yourself first and everything falls into line.
The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death.
But I didn't frame it; I put into an envelope and sealed it and stuffed it far back into a corner drawer of a filing cabinet. It's there, just in case one of these days I start to lose her. There might be a morning when I wake up and her face isn't the first thing I see. Or a lazy August afternoon when I can't quite recall anymore where the freckles were on her right shoulders. Maybe one of these days, I will not be able to listen to the sound of snow falling and hear her footsteps.
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