The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe: With an Essay on His Poetry by Andrew LangKegan Paul, Trench, 1881 - 172 pages |
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Page xiv
... passions , he was familiar with pride , and with the intolerable regret , the life - long desiderium which , having lost the solitary object of its love , can find among living men and women no more than the objects of passing sentiment ...
... passions , he was familiar with pride , and with the intolerable regret , the life - long desiderium which , having lost the solitary object of its love , can find among living men and women no more than the objects of passing sentiment ...
Page xvi
... passions . He dwells in a world more vaporous than that of Shelley's " Witch of ✓ Atlas , ” in a region where dreaming cities crumble into fathomless seas , in a fairyland with " dim vales and shadowy woods , " in haunted palaces , or ...
... passions . He dwells in a world more vaporous than that of Shelley's " Witch of ✓ Atlas , ” in a region where dreaming cities crumble into fathomless seas , in a fairyland with " dim vales and shadowy woods , " in haunted palaces , or ...
Page xvii
... passion of the Mascarilles and Alcestes , the Don Juans and Tartuffes , was also of opinion that no poem could be long . The " Iliad " and the " Odyssey , " he thought , were mistakes ; they carried too heavy a weight of words and ...
... passion of the Mascarilles and Alcestes , the Don Juans and Tartuffes , was also of opinion that no poem could be long . The " Iliad " and the " Odyssey , " he thought , were mistakes ; they carried too heavy a weight of words and ...
Page xviii
... passions , Poe's theory seems fatally narrow . Without the conceptions of duty and truth we can have no ' Antigone " and no " Prometheus . " These great and paramount ideas have always been the inspirers of hon- ourable actions , and by ...
... passions , Poe's theory seems fatally narrow . Without the conceptions of duty and truth we can have no ' Antigone " and no " Prometheus . " These great and paramount ideas have always been the inspirers of hon- ourable actions , and by ...
Page xxi
... passion - a faint rhythmical echo among stars and graves of man's laborious life - that we are reduced if we hold the theory of Poe . A critic of his own native land , Mr. Henry James , has spoken of his " valueless verse , " and ...
... passion - a faint rhythmical echo among stars and graves of man's laborious life - that we are reduced if we hold the theory of Poe . A critic of his own native land , Mr. Henry James , has spoken of his " valueless verse , " and ...
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Common terms and phrases
Aaraaf Al Aaraaf ALESS ALESSANDRA amid angels Annabel Lee Annie Auber Baldazzar beauty bells beneath bird breast breath bright Castiglione chamber door dead death deep didst thou doth dream dwell Earl of Leicester Earth EDGAR ALLAN POE Eldorado Eulalie fair fancy fell flowers garden glory golden happy happy flowers hath Haunted Palace hear Heaven holy Hope human Ianthe Israfel Jacinta Lalage Lenore Ligeia light live lone maiden melancholy melody Molière moon never Nevermore night o'er odor passions Poe's poems poet poetry Politian pride Quoth the raven rhyme SCENES FROM POLITIAN seraphs shadow sigh skies sleep smile song sorrow soul sound speak spirit star strange sweet thee thine eyes things thou art thou hast thought thro throne Ulalume unto verse voice wandering wave wild wind wing words
Popular passages
Page 7 - Lenore" : Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice ; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore; Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore : Tis the wind and nothing more.
Page 3 - TO HELEN. Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean 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 hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Page 6 - This it is and nothing more." 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 " — here I opened wide the door: — Darkness there and nothing more.
Page 172 - 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 ; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.
Page 49 - Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow, (This — all this — was in the olden Time long ago) And every gentle air that dallied, In that sweet day, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odor went away.
Page 9 - But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered, — not a feather then he fluttered, — Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before, — On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.
Page 142 - 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 the clamor...
Page 4 - 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.
Page 8 - 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 "Nevermore.
Page 11 - Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...