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Seite 215 - Once upon a midnight dreary, While I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious Volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, Suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, Rapping at my chamber door ; "Tis some visitor," I muttered, ' ' Tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more.
Seite 217 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Seite 218 - Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend! " I shrieked, upstarting' "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore ! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Seite 221 - Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! How it swells ; How it dwells On the Future ! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells— To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells...
Seite 230 - In the greenest of our valleys, By good angels tenanted, Once a fair and stately palace Radiant palace - reared its head. In the monarch Thought's dominion It stood there ! Never seraph spread a pinion Over fabric half so fair.
Seite 226 - And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child. In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.
Seite 222 - Oh, the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair! How they clang, and clash, and roar! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet the ear it fully knows, By the twanging And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows; Yet the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, — By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells, Of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells — In...
Seite 220 - How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme. To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells,— From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
Seite 231 - I dwelt alone In a world of moan, And my soul was a stagnant tide, Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride — Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride. Ah, less — less bright The stars of the night Than the eyes of the radiant girl ! And never a flake That the vapor can make With the moon-tints of purple and pearl, Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl — Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and careless curl. Now...