Analyze This Arse Can Someone Analyze This Poem For Me?

Can someone analyze this poem for me? - analyze this arse

Of these, except that my earthly lot
It has little "Earth in it --
The year of love have been forgotten
In hatred of a minute: --
I do not grieve, that the desolate
Are happier, sweet, I
But what a pity for my fate
Who am a passer-by.

This poem by Edgar Allan Poe. I need to know this in English, but do not understand what the poem.