The Complete Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe: With Memoir

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Homewood Publishing Company, 1902 - 256 Seiten
 

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Inhalt

I
5
II
113
III
125
IV
153
V
155
VI
161
VII
163
VIII
164
XXII
188
XXIII
189
XXIV
191
XXV
192
XXVI
193
XXVIII
195
XXIX
199
XXX
200

IX
166
X
168
XI
169
XII
173
XIII
176
XIV
177
XV
179
XVII
181
XVIII
182
XIX
183
XX
184
XXI
186
XXXI
201
XXXII
225
XXXIII
226
XXXIV
240
XXXVI
248
XXXVII
249
XXXIX
250
XL
252
XLII
253
XLIII
254
XLIV
255
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Seite 160 - Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil! Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted — On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore: Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore !
Seite 159 - But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore, What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore.
Seite 147 - The bleak wind of March Made her tremble and shiver ; But not the dark arch, Or the black flowing river : Mad from life's history, Glad to death's mystery, Swift to be...
Seite 156 - Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door — Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: This it is and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger ; hesitating then no longer,
Seite 155 - Only this and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore.
Seite 181 - And travellers, now, within that valley, Through the red-litten windows see Vast forms, that move fantastically To a discordant melody, While, like a ghastly rapid river, Through the pale door A hideous throng rush out forever, And laugh - but smile no more.
Seite 175 - 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...
Seite 137 - Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice.
Seite 177 - IT was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE ; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.
Seite 140 - Of her bright face one glance will trace A picture on the brain, And of her voice in echoing hearts A sound must long remain; But memory, such as mine of her, So very much endears, When death is nigh my latest sigh Will not be life's, but hers. I fill this cup to one made up Of loveliness alone, A woman, of her gentle sex The seeming paragon — Her health! and would on earth there stood Some more of such a frame, That life might be all poetry, And weariness a name.

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