Ulalume

by Edgar Allan Poe

Ulalume" is a poem written by Edgar Allan Poe in 1847. Much like a few of Poe's other poems (such as "The Raven", "Annabel Lee", and "Lenore"), "Ulalume" focuses on the narrator's loss of his beloved due to her death. Poe originally wrote the poem as an elocution piece and, as such, the poem is known for its focus on sound. Additionally, it makes many allusions, especially to mythology, and the identity of Ulalume herself, if a real person, has been a subject of debate.

Genres: Poetry, Classics, Gothic, Fiction, 19th Century, Short Stories, Literature

Unknown Binding

First published January 1, 1847

About the author

The name Poe brings to mind images of murderers and madmen, premature burials, and mysterious women who return from the dead. His works have been in print since 1827 and include such literary classics as The Tell-Tale Heart, The Raven, and The Fall of the House of Usher. This versatile writer’s oeuvre includes short stories, poetry, a novel, a textbook, a book of scientific theory, and hundreds of essays and book reviews. He is widely acknowledged as the inventor of the modern detective story and an innovator in the science fiction genre, but he made his living as America’s first great literary critic and theoretician. Poe’s reputation today rests primarily on his tales of terror as well as on his haunting lyric poetry.

Just as the bizarre characters in Poe’s stories have captured the public imagination so too has Poe himself. He is seen as a morbid, mysterious figure lurking in the shadows of moonlit cemeteries or crumbling castles. This is the Poe of legend. But much of what we know about Poe is wrong, the product of a biography written by one of his enemies in an attempt to defame the author’s name.

The real Poe was born to traveling actors in Boston on January 19, 1809. Edgar was the second of three children. His other brother William Henry Leonard Poe would also become a poet before his early death, and Poe’s sister Rosalie Poe would grow up to teach penmanship at a Richmond girls’ school. Within three years of Poe’s birth both of his parents had died, and he was taken in by the wealthy tobacco merchant John Allan and his wife Frances Valentine Allan in Richmond, Virginia while Poe’s siblings went to live with other families. Mr. Allan would rear Poe to be a businessman and a Virginia gentleman, but Poe had dreams of being a writer in emulation of his childhood hero the British poet Lord Byron. Early poetic verses found written in a young Poe’s handwriting on the backs of Allan’s ledger sheets reveal how little interest Poe had in the tobacco business.

For more information, please see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgar_al...

Reviews

[Jess the Shelf-Declared Bibliophile · Rating 4 out of 5]

A delightfully melodic poem that reads like the most perfect of songs. I literally read it out loud to hear the beauty of it.

[Tom · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Biographers and critics have often suggested that Poe's obsession with this theme stems from the repeated loss of women throughout his life, including his mother Eliza Poe, his wife, and his foster mother Frances Allan." (Weekes, Karen. "Poe's feminine ideal", collected in The Cambridge Companion to Edgar Allan Poe, edited by Kevin J. Hayes. Cambridge University Press, 2002: 149).
This poem should be read as the author intended elocution style for then its haunting beauty is truly revealed.

[Siobhan · Rating 2 out of 5]

Ulalume is another quick poem from Poe, another one that is what you would expect after reading a few pieces of his work.

Although Ulalume is quintessentially Poe, it is far from being my favourite of his works. It is nowhere near the league of The Raven, but it was a decent quick read.

In my quest to read all of Poe, Ulalume is not my favourite. However, it is not my least favourite either.

[Scott · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brilliant gothic poetics by Poe. An all consumimg love of night-time energies, stars, woodland landscapes, melancholy, and mythic dream-like figures inevitably guide onward towards the visit to a tomb of grim remembrance.

[Mariè · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Our talk had been serious and sober,
But our thoughts they were palsied and sere-
Our memories were treacherous and sere- "

An incredible work of art

[Jinx:The:Poet {the LiteraryWanderer & WordRoamer} · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Ulalume"
By Edgar Allan Poe


The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crisped and sere -
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir -
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

Here once, through an alley Titanic,
Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul -
Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
These were days when my heart was volcanic
As the scoriac rivers that roll -
As the lavas that restlessly roll
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek
In the ultimate climes of the pole -
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek
In the realms of the boreal pole.

Our talk had been serious and sober,
But our thoughts they were palsied and sere -
Our memories were treacherous and sere, -
For we knew not the month was October,
And we marked not the night of the year -
(Ah, night of all nights in the year!)
We noted not the dim lake of Auber -
(Though once we had journey down here),
Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,
Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

And now, as the night was senescent,
And star-dials pointed to morn -
As the star-dials hinted of morn -
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose with a duplicate horn -
Astarte's bediamonded crescent
Distinct with its duplicate horn.

And I said - "She is warmer than Dian:
She rolls through an ether of sighs -
She revels in a region of sighs:
She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks, where the worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the Lion
To point us the path to the skies -
To the Lethean peace of the skies -
Come up, in despite of the Lion,
To shine on us with her bright eyes -
Come up through the lair of the Lion,
With love in her luminous eyes."

But Psyche, uplifting her finger,
Said - "Sadly this star I mistrust -
Her pallor I strangely mistrust: -
Oh, hasten! - oh, let us not linger!
Oh, fly! - let us fly! - for we must."
In terror she spoke, letting sink her
Wings until they trailed in the dust -
In agony sobbed, letting sink her
Plumes till they trailed in the dust -
Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust.

I replied - "This is nothing but dreaming:
Let us on by this tremulous light!
Let us bathe in this crystalline light!
Its Sybilic splendor is beaming
With Hope and in Beauty to-night! -
See! - it flickers up the sky through the night!
Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming,
And be sure it will lead us aright -
We safely may trust to a gleaming,
That cannot but guide us aright,
Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night."

Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,
And tempted her out of her gloom -
And conquered her scruples and gloom;
And we passed to the end of the vista,
But were stopped by the door of a tomb -
By the door of a legended tomb;
And I said - "What is written, sweet sister,
On the door of this legended tomb?"
She replied - "Ulalume - Ulalume -
‘Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!"

Then my heart it grew ashen and sober
As the leaves that were crisped and sere -
As the leaves that were withering and sere,
And I cried - "It was surely October
On this very night of last year
That I journeyed - I journeyed down here -
That I brought a dread burden down here!
On this night of all nights in the year,
Ah, what demon has tempted me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber -
This misty mid region of Weir -
Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber, -
This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir."

[Shahrooz.M · Rating 3 out of 5]

Jeff Buckley has a narration of this poem.

[C.K. · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Ulalume” was published close to a year after Poe’s wife Virginia died. (She died at 24 of tuberculosis). This poem deals with loss and grief. The man goes on this journey through an eerie forest at night. He’s kind of in a dreamlike state. I think he is haunted by the memories of his lost love. The man ends up at the tomb of his lost love, Ulalume. The woman died exactly a year before.

The poem takes place in October.
“It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year.”

I read that the last stanza is often cut out in printed versions of the poem. I included it.

I read that Poe’s friend Charles Chauncey Burr wrote, “Many times, after the death of his beloved wife, was he found at the dead hour of a winter night, sitting beside her tomb almost frozen in the snow.”

“Ulalume- A Ballad” By: Edgar Allan Poe



The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crispéd and sere—
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir—
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.


Here once, through an alley Titanic,
Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul—
Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
These were days when my heart was volcanic
As the scoriac rivers that roll—
As the lavas that restlessly roll
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek
In the ultimate climes of the pole—
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek
In the realms of the boreal pole.


Our talk had been serious and sober,
But our thoughts they were palsied and sere—
Our memories were treacherous and sere—
For we knew not the month was October,
And we marked not the night of the year—
(Ah, night of all nights in the year!)
We noted not the dim lake of Auber—
(Though once we had journeyed down here)—
We remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,
Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.


And now, as the night was senescent
And star-dials pointed to morn—
As the star-dials hinted of morn—
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose with a duplicate horn—
Astarte's bediamonded crescent
Distinct with its duplicate horn.


And I said—"She is warmer than Dian:
She rolls through an ether of sighs—
She revels in a region of sighs:
She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks, where the worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the Lion
To point us the path to the skies—
To the Lethean peace of the skies—
Come up, in despite of the Lion,
To shine on us with her bright eyes—
Come up through the lair of the Lion,
With love in her luminous eyes."


But Psyche, uplifting her finger,
Said—"Sadly this star I mistrust—
Her pallor I strangely mistrust:—
Oh, hasten! oh, let us not linger!
Oh, fly!—let us fly!—for we must."
In terror she spoke, letting sink her
Wings till they trailed in the dust—
In agony sobbed, letting sink her
Plumes till they trailed in the dust—
Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust.


I replied—"This is nothing but dreaming:
Let us on by this tremulous light!
Let us bathe in this crystalline light!
Its Sybilic splendor is beaming
With Hope and in Beauty to-night:—
See!—it flickers up the sky through the night!
Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming,
And be sure it will lead us aright—
We safely may trust to a gleaming
That cannot but guide us aright,
Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night."


Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,
And tempted her out of her gloom—
And conquered her scruples and gloom:
And we passed to the end of the vista,
But were stopped by the door of a tomb—
By the door of a legended tomb;
And I said—"What is written, sweet sister,
On the door of this legended tomb?"
She replied—"Ulalume—Ulalume—
Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!"


Then my heart it grew ashen and sober
As the leaves that were crispèd and sere—
As the leaves that were withering and sere,
And I cried—"It was surely October
On this very night of last year
That I journeyed—I journeyed down here—
That I brought a dread burden down here—
On this night of all nights in the year,
Oh, what demon has tempted me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber—
This misty mid region of Weir—
Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber—
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir."

🍂🍁🍂(I guess this section below is sometimes omitted)🍂🍁🍂

Said we, then-the two, then-"Ah, can it
Have been that the woodlandish ghouls—
The pitiful, the merciful ghouls—
To bar up our way and to ban it
From the secret that lies in these wolds—
From the thing that lies hidden in these wolds—
Had drawn up the spectre of a planet
From the limbo of lunary souls—
This sinfully scintillant planet
From the Hell of the planetary souls?"

[Shaneka Knight · Rating 3 out of 5]

I found this poem quite boring, actually, but you can read it for free here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem...

[Andy Hickman · Rating 3 out of 5]

The loss of his beloved, similar to Annabel Lee
.

"Ulalume"
By Edgar Allan Poe

The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crisped and sere -
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir -
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

Here once, through an alley Titanic,
Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul -
Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
These were days when my heart was volcanic
As the scoriac rivers that roll -
As the lavas that restlessly roll
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek
In the ultimate climes of the pole -
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek
In the realms of the boreal pole.

Our talk had been serious and sober,
But our thoughts they were palsied and sere -
Our memories were treacherous and sere, -
For we knew not the month was October,
And we marked not the night of the year -
(Ah, night of all nights in the year!)
We noted not the dim lake of Auber -
(Though once we had journey down here),
Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,
Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

And now, as the night was senescent,
And star-dials pointed to morn -
As the star-dials hinted of morn -
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose with a duplicate horn -
Astarte's bediamonded crescent
Distinct with its duplicate horn.

And I said - "She is warmer than Dian:
She rolls through an ether of sighs -
She revels in a region of sighs:
She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks, where the worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the Lion
To point us the path to the skies -
To the Lethean peace of the skies -
Come up, in despite of the Lion,
To shine on us with her bright eyes -
Come up through the lair of the Lion,
With love in her luminous eyes."

But Psyche, uplifting her finger,
Said - "Sadly this star I mistrust -
Her pallor I strangely mistrust: -
Oh, hasten! - oh, let us not linger!
Oh, fly! - let us fly! - for we must."
In terror she spoke, letting sink her
Wings until they trailed in the dust -
In agony sobbed, letting sink her
Plumes till they trailed in the dust -
Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust.

I replied - "This is nothing but dreaming:
Let us on by this tremulous light!
Let us bathe in this crystalline light!
Its Sybilic splendor is beaming
With Hope and in Beauty to-night! -
See! - it flickers up the sky through the night!
Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming,
And be sure it will lead us aright -
We safely may trust to a gleaming,
That cannot but guide us aright,
Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night."

Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,
And tempted her out of her gloom -
And conquered her scruples and gloom;
And we passed to the end of the vista,
But were stopped by the door of a tomb -
By the door of a legended tomb;
And I said - "What is written, sweet sister,
On the door of this legended tomb?"
She replied - "Ulalume - Ulalume -
‘Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!"

Then my heart it grew ashen and sober
As the leaves that were crisped and sere -
As the leaves that were withering and sere,
And I cried - "It was surely October
On this very night of last year
That I journeyed - I journeyed down here -
That I brought a dread burden down here!
On this night of all nights in the year,
Ah, what demon has tempted me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber -
This misty mid region of Weir -
Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber, -
This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir."

[Nicole]

Watch the livestream discussion
https://youtu.be/HHkhNoadDGA

[Diana Esaian · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ulalume is one of my favourite poems. Its mood is highly intense; the reader understands that the narrator is going through something difficult as he is in conflict with his soul. It is a psychological masterpiece.
Throughout the whole poem, the author keeps the reader wonder what is actually happening to the narrator. He created such a heavy atmosphere that by the end of the poem, it is very difficult not to become emotional. I personally found it impossible not to shed a tear.

[John Yelverton · Rating 2 out of 5]

I know some people want to put this poem in the categories of "The Raven", "Annabel Lee" and "Lenore", but it's not even in their class.

[K. Anna Kraft · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have arranged my takeaway thoughts into a haiku:

"Lock your grief away,
You'll orbit it nonetheless.
Abstract walls or no."

[Ruby Scupp · Rating 3 out of 5]

Favorite Lines

The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crispéd and sere

Here once, through an alley Titanic,
Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul

At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born

She rolls through an ether of sighs—
She revels in a region of sighs

Come up through the lair of the Lion,
With love in her luminous eyes

I replied—"This is nothing but dreaming:
Let us on by this tremulous light!
…
Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming,
And be sure it will lead us aright

Have been that the woodlandish ghouls—
…
Had drawn up the spectre of a planet
From the limbo of lunary souls —
This sinfully scintillant planet
From the Hell of the planetary souls?"

[Amelia Bujar · Rating 1 out of 5]

FULL REVIEW ON MY WEBSITE
https://thebookcornerchronicles.com/2...

This one I need to say is a melodic poem which of course not everyone will like. This poem almost reads as a perfect song with even better theme to it. But I personally don’t am a fan of.

This one is another quick and short poem as you can expect from Edgar Allan Poe.

This poem sort of gives you a Greek and Roman mythology vibe while reading it which I personally liked a lot.

For the most part the writing style is pretty decent but still Edgar Allan Poe was able to do much better than this.

[Leah Markum · Rating 2 out of 5]

Other than at the very end, this could've been one of Poe's many Greek and Roman mythology poems, this time walking among the gods. However, upon a second reading I suppose the narrator is, except the gods lead him to the grave of a lost love on a dreary October night just like like when she died. Still, like Poe's other mythology poems, much of the words are dedicated to names I'm only vaguely familiar with, vocabulary I had to look up (not that I mind to a point), and so the poem just didn't read smoothly for me. The content isn't among my favorite of Poe's either.

[Esha · Rating 3 out of 5]

Read in 2023 as part of Selected Works of Edgar Allan Poe.

[Greg · Rating 3 out of 5]

Hunzalar gibi biz de buzul sularının ve kaslarımızı çalıştıran sıradağların koruyuculuğunun tadını çıkarmalıyız. Ölümden ben orada ikamet edeceğim ve vatandaşlık talebinde bulunacağım. Maceracılar, beni bulun!

[Adric Rangel · Rating 2 out of 5]

Ulalume es el primer poema que leo de Edgar Allan Poe

[Sean Harding · Rating 3 out of 5]

Another Poe poem this one did not resonate with me as much as some of the others.

[Forked Radish · Rating 4 out of 5]

"The ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir"
Is the style of poetry that I hold dear...

[Katherine Hernandez · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars.

[S M H · Rating 3 out of 5]

It alright

[Chloe · Rating 5 out of 5]

In a Poe mood after finishing The Fall of the House of Usher on Netfl*x

[mal · Rating 5 out of 5]

comment c’est trop beau je vais lire tous ses poèmes

[Natalie]

I am not smart enough for this poem lol

[Dilf Huntress · Rating 1 out of 5]

Just didnt like it

[Zermeen · Rating 2 out of 5]

Yeah you lost me here chief I think this might be on the bottom of my list so far

[yasmeen🧸 · Rating 4 out of 5]

what a beautifully musical piece of poetry about the lonesome of our poet and how he is grieving his loved one <3