Poems and Essays of Edgar Allan Poe: Including Memoir by John H. Ingram, Tributes to His Memory by Prof. Lowell and N.P. Willis ; with the Letters, Addresses and Poems of the Memorial Ceremonies at the Monumental Dedication
W.J. Widdleton, Publisher, 1881 - 395 Seiten
Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben
Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.
admit American appeared atoms attained attempt beautiful become called cause centre character conceive condition considered continued course critic dactyl death distance doubt dream Earth effect English equality exist expression eyes fact fancy feel feet force genius give given Graham's Magazine hand heart Heaven human iambus idea imagination impossible least leave length less letter light literary living look matter means memory merely mind nature never night object observed once original perhaps person Poe's poem poet poetical position possible present principle question reader reason reference regard remarkable respect rhythm seems seen sense short soul speak spirit stars story suggest suppose syllables term thee thing thou thought tion true truth Universe verse whole write written
Seite clxxxi - 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 9 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor: And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore...
Seite 8 - This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...
Seite 29 - And all with pearl and ruby glowing Was the fair palace door, Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing And sparkling evermore, A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty Was but to sing, In voices of surpassing beauty, The wit and wisdom of their king.
Seite clxv - And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies. Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume . The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
Seite 6 - Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping; and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you.
Seite 44 - In Heaven a spirit doth dwell Whose heart-strings are a lute; None sing so wildly well As the angel Israfel, And the giddy stars (so legends tell), Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell Of his voice, all mute.
Seite 29 - 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! Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow (This — all this — was in the olden Time long ago...
Seite 18 - THE skies they were ashen and sober; The leaves they were crisped and sere, The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October Of my most immemorial year; It was hard by the dim lake of Auber, In the misty mid region of Weir : It was down by the dank tarn of Auber, In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.