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TO HELEN.

HELEN, thy beauty is to me

Like those Nicéan barks of

yore',

That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,

The weary, wayworn 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.

Lol in yon brilliant window niche

How statue-like I see thee stand, The agate lamp within thy hand! Ah, Psyche, from the regions which Are Holy Land!

THE RAVEN.

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 visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door

Only this, and nothing moré."

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

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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.

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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber

door

Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber

door ;

This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no

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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.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave

no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore ! "

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the

word, "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!"

Open here

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 an instant stopped

or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my

chamber door

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber

door

Perched, and sat, and nothing more

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