The poetical works of Edgar Allan Poe with a notice by J. Hannay1853 |
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Page xvi
... thy beauty is to me Like those Nicéan barks of yore , That gently , o'er a perfumed sea , The weary , way - worn wanderer bore To his own native shore . On desperate seas long wont to roam , Thy hyacinth xvi THE LIFE AND GENIUS OF.
... thy beauty is to me Like those Nicéan barks of yore , That gently , o'er a perfumed sea , The weary , way - worn wanderer bore To his own native shore . On desperate seas long wont to roam , Thy hyacinth xvi THE LIFE AND GENIUS OF.
Page 7
... o'er , But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp - light gloating o'er , She shall press , ah , nevermore ! XIV . Then , methought , the air grew denser THE RAVEN . 7.
... o'er , But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp - light gloating o'er , She shall press , ah , nevermore ! XIV . Then , methought , the air grew denser THE RAVEN . 7.
Page 10
... 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 ! * There is a curious little paper on the genesis of this poem , by PoE , in one of his ...
... 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 ! * There is a curious little paper on the genesis of this poem , by PoE , in one of his ...
Page 38
... o'er the Past ( Dim gulf ! ) my spirit hovering lies , Mute , motionless , aghast ! III . For , alas ! alas ! with me The light of life is o'er ! " No more - no more - no more- ( Such language holds the solemn sea To the sands 38 TO ONE ...
... o'er the Past ( Dim gulf ! ) my spirit hovering lies , Mute , motionless , aghast ! III . For , alas ! alas ! with me The light of life is o'er ! " No more - no more - no more- ( Such language holds the solemn sea To the sands 38 TO ONE ...
Page 49
... o'er the floor and down the wall , Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall ! Oh , lady dear ! hast thou no fear ? Why and what art thou dreaming here ? Sure thou art come o'er far - off seas , A wonder to these garden trees ! E Strange is ...
... o'er the floor and down the wall , Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall ! Oh , lady dear ! hast thou no fear ? Why and what art thou dreaming here ? Sure thou art come o'er far - off seas , A wonder to these garden trees ! E Strange is ...
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Common terms and phrases
Al Aaraaf Aless amid angels ANNABEL LEE Auber Baldazzar beautiful bells breath BRIDAL BALLAD bright Castiglione chamber door dead death deep dost dream dwell Earl of Leicester Earth Edgar EDGAR ALLAN POE Edgar Poe Eldorado Eulalie F. W. HULME fair feel fell flowers garden genius glory golden happy HARRISON WEIR hath hear heart heaven holy hope Ianthe Israfel Jacinta JAMES GODWIN JAMES HANNAY lake Lalage Lenore Ligeia light lone love thee maiden melancholy melody moon never Nevermore night o'er passion pause Poe's poems poet poetry Politian Quoth the Raven Rome seraph shadow sigh Silence skies sleep smile solemn sorrow soul speak spirit star strange sure sweet tears thine eyes things thou art thou hast throne Ulalume unto voice wave Weir wild wilt wind wing words
Popular passages
Page 6 - Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. 'Wretch,' I cried, 'thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!
Page 3 - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as
Page 40 - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we— Of many far wiser than we— And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
Page 7 - 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!
Page 5 - 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 footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch!
Page 7 - thing of evil— prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore, Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore!
Page 5 - 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.
Page 6 - 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!
Page xxxii - 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.
Page xxxii - And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me— filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, "* Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door, Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: This it is and nothing more.