Sit down beside me, Isabel,
Here, dearest, where the moonbeam fell
Just now so fairy-like and well.
Now thou art dress'd for paradise!
I am star-stricken with thine eyes!
My soul is lolling on thy sighs!
Thy hair is lifted by the moon
Like flowers by the low breath of June!
Sit down, sit down — how came we here?
Or is it all but a dream, my dear?
The beginning of this poem, again, seems to me that Poe is talking to some lover—real or imaginary—from above. He is saying to sit beside him for a little chat in the middle of the night. He brings the supernatural into the picture, which was unusual for an American author to do so—as most Americans are not superstitious by nature. He says that this Isabel is dressed for heaven, and he is in love with her eyes. He also wants to know if she and him are having the same dream, or even if this is a dream. I think this was written during one of Poe’s more happier days.
I also found a different version of the Poe-m than Dr. Jerz's.