Stilts on ice in Boston city <br />Isn’t it a pity <br />The story it goes <br />Tells of a distorted ghost <br />And this we know <br />His laurel’s on the snow <br />Yearly keeping we see him <br />Walks in the same way <br />To the same shady place <br />He says <br />Hey Poe, hey Poe, hey Poe, let’s have a toast <br /> <br />Tamerlane, the Raven, Eulalie <br />A prospectus <br />Tamerlane, the Raven, Eulalie <br />The Styluses <br /> <br />Propora, you aren’t alone <br />At the headstone time retain <br />A black-clad figure <br />With silver-tipped cane <br />Half bottle of Martel <br />Identity they’ll never tell <br />Come New England fall <br />Enter Westminster Hall <br />And the burial floor <br />(Their Gothic Revival for Baltimore) <br />He walks into another shady place <br />He says <br />Hey Poe, hey Poe, hey Poe, let’s have a toast<br /><br />Mason Maestro<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stilted-laurels-from-a-poe-toaster/
