" He was a goodly spirit—he who fell:         A wanderer by moss-y-mantled well—         A gazer on the lights that shine above—         A dreamer in the moonbeam by his love:         What wonder? for each star is eye-like there,         And looks so sweetly down on Beauty’s hair—         And they, and every mossy spring were holy         To his love-haunted heart and melancholy.         The night had found (to him a night of woe)         Upon a mountain crag, young Angelo—         Beetling it bends athwart the solemn sky,         And scowls on starry worlds that down beneath it lie.         Here "

― Edgar Allan Poe , Poemas