Edgar Allan Poe


At morn- at noon- at twilight dim- Maria! Thou hast heard my hymn! In joy and woe- in good and ill- Mother of God, be with me still! When the hours flew brightly by, and not a cloud obscured the sky, my soul, lest it should truant be, thy grace did guide to thine and thee; Now, when storms of Fate o'ercast darkly my Present and my Past, let my Future radiant shine with sweet hopes of thee and thine!

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