The Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe, with Original Memoir. Illustrated by F. R. Pickersgill, J. Tenniel, Birket Foster, Etc1866 |
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Page 9
... dead that ever died so young- A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young . RETCHES ! ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride , And when she fell in feeble health , ye blessed her that she died ! How shall ...
... dead that ever died so young- A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young . RETCHES ! ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride , And when she fell in feeble health , ye blessed her that she died ! How shall ...
Page 49
... dead D'Elormie , " Oh , I am happy now ! " And thus the words were spoken , And thus the plighted vow ; And though my faith be broken , And though my heart be broken , Behold the golden token That proves me happy now ! Would God I could ...
... dead D'Elormie , " Oh , I am happy now ! " And thus the words were spoken , And thus the plighted vow ; And though my faith be broken , And though my heart be broken , Behold the golden token That proves me happy now ! Would God I could ...
Page 58
... dead , - Their still waters - still and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily . By the lakes that thus outspread Their lone waters , lone and dead , - Their sad waters , sad and chilly With the snows. 58.
... dead , - Their still waters - still and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily . By the lakes that thus outspread Their lone waters , lone and dead , - Their sad waters , sad and chilly With the snows. 58.
Page 64
... - Some tomb from out whose sounding door She ne'er shall force an echo more , Thrilling to think , poor child of sin ! It was the dead who groaned within . FOR ANNIE . HANK Heaven ! the crisis- The danger 61 THE SLEEPER .
... - Some tomb from out whose sounding door She ne'er shall force an echo more , Thrilling to think , poor child of sin ! It was the dead who groaned within . FOR ANNIE . HANK Heaven ! the crisis- The danger 61 THE SLEEPER .
Page 65
... dead- Might start at beholding me , Thinking me dead . The moaning and groaning , The sighing and sobbing , Are quieted now , With that horrible throbbing At heart 65 K FOR ANNIE.
... dead- Might start at beholding me , Thinking me dead . The moaning and groaning , The sighing and sobbing , Are quieted now , With that horrible throbbing At heart 65 K FOR ANNIE.
Other editions - View all
The Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe, with Orig. Memoir. New Illustr. Ed Edgar Allan Poe No preview available - 2016 |
The Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe, with Orig. Memoir. New Illustr. Ed Edgar Allan Poe No preview available - 2015 |
Common terms and phrases
A. M. MADOT Aaraaf Al Aaraaf ALESSANDRA amid ANNABEL LEE Auber BALDAZZAR beautiful ANNABEL LEE bells bird BIRKET FOSTER bride bright Broadway Journal bust CASTIGLIONE chamber door Cooper dear Dian death didst died dim lake dost doth dream dwell Edgar Allan Poe Evans F. R. PICKERSGILL fair feel fell flowers gentle ghoul-haunted woodland glory golden happy hath hear heart heaven Hope Israfel JACINTA JASPER CROPSEY JOHN TENNIEL LALAGE leave light literary lived lone magazine maiden melody moon never Nevermore night o'er PERCIVAL SKELTON poems poet POLITIAN quarrel Quoth the Raven red levin Richmond roll Runic rhyme SCENES FROM POLITIAN seraph sere shadow sigh skies smiled sorrow soul spirit stars strange sweet tarn of Auber thee things thou art thro throne ULALUME unto upturn'd faces voice W. J. Linton wave wild wind wing woodland of Weir young
Popular passages
Page 1 - 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 4 - Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a...
Page 7 - 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...
Page 4 - Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore, Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never — nevermore.
Page 2 - 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 39 - 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.
Page 39 - 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.
Page 58 - By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these lands but newly From an ultimate dim Thule — From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime, Out of SPACE — out of TIME.
Page 6 - 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! 100 Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Page 31 - With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor, Now — now to sit or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon. Oh, the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells Of despair! How they clang, and clash, and roar!