"Ulalume" has been commonly (though not always) regarded as a mere
experiment in verbal ingenuity, meaningless melody, or "the insanity
of versification," as a distinguished American critic has called
it. Such a judgment is a mark of inability to understand Poe's most
characteristic work, for in truth "Ulalume" is the extreme expression
at once of his critical theory and of his peculiar genius as a
poet. It was published in December of the same year in which Virginia
died in January. The poet's condition has already been described;
"Ulalume" is a marvelous expression of his mood at this time. It
depicts a soul worn out by long suffering, groping for courage and
hope, only to return again to "the door of a legended tomb." It is
true the movement is slow, impeded by the frequent repetitions, but so
the wearied mind, after nervous exhaustion, is "palsied and sere."
There is no appeal to the intellect, but this is characteristic of Poe
and appropriate to a mind numbed by protracted suffering. It is this
mood of wearied, benumbed, discouraged, hopeless hope, feebly seeking
for the "Lethean peace of the skies" only to find the mind inevitably
reverting to the "lost Ulalume," that finds expression. There is no
definite thought, because only the communication of feeling is
intended; there is no distinct setting, because the whole action is
spiritual; "the dim lake" and "dark tarn of Auber," "the ghoul-haunted
woodland of Weir," "the alley Titanic of cypress," are the
grief-stricken and fear-haunted places of the poet's own darkened
mind, while the ashen skies of "the lonesome October" are significant
enough of this "most immemorial year." The poem is a monody of
nerveless, exhausted grief. As such it must be read to be appreciated,
as such it must be judged, and so appreciated and so judged it is
absolutely unique and incomparable.

About a year later came "The Bells," wonderful for the music of its