The Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe |
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Page xviii
... hand , though it appears only too certain that his wild pas- sions carried him into most unhappy self - abandon- ment , his verse is all as pure as wild flowers . This is the way in which the boy Edgar - the rejected of the Military ...
... hand , though it appears only too certain that his wild pas- sions carried him into most unhappy self - abandon- ment , his verse is all as pure as wild flowers . This is the way in which the boy Edgar - the rejected of the Military ...
Page xix
... hand ! Ah , Psyche , from the regions which Are holy land ! Could anything be more dainty , airy , amber - bright than this is ? Its elegance is Horatian . It is merum nectar , as Scaligar says of the Ode to Pyrrha . I do not believe ...
... hand ! Ah , Psyche , from the regions which Are holy land ! Could anything be more dainty , airy , amber - bright than this is ? Its elegance is Horatian . It is merum nectar , as Scaligar says of the Ode to Pyrrha . I do not believe ...
Page xxvii
... hand , inventors in the regions of mechanics partake of something poetic in their inspiration . Brindley was as eccentric as Goldsmith . Watt would muse over a tea - kettle , as Rousseau did over la pervenche , or over the lake into ...
... hand , inventors in the regions of mechanics partake of something poetic in their inspiration . Brindley was as eccentric as Goldsmith . Watt would muse over a tea - kettle , as Rousseau did over la pervenche , or over the lake into ...
Page 51
... hand : With thy dear name as text , though bidden by thee , I cannot write - I cannot speak or think— Alas ! I cannot feel ; for ' tis not feeling , This standing motionless upon the golden Threshold of the wide - open gate of dreams ...
... hand : With thy dear name as text , though bidden by thee , I cannot write - I cannot speak or think— Alas ! I cannot feel ; for ' tis not feeling , This standing motionless upon the golden Threshold of the wide - open gate of dreams ...
Page 96
... Hannay. " I stand amid the roar Of a surf - tormented shore ; And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand . " Ceo Mease my e A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM . I. TAKE this kiss. A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM . SCENES FROM " POLITIAN . " "
... Hannay. " I stand amid the roar Of a surf - tormented shore ; And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand . " Ceo Mease my e A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM . I. TAKE this kiss. A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM . SCENES FROM " POLITIAN . " "
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The Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe: With a Notice of His Life and Genius Edgar Allan Poe,James Hannay No preview available - 1856 |
Common terms and phrases
AARAAF AL AARAAF Aless amid ANELAY angels name Lenore ANNABEL LEE Auber Baldazzar beautiful ANNABEL LEE bells bird breath Bridal Ballad bright bust Castiglione chamber door dead dear Dian death didst died dim lake dost dream dwell earth EDGAR ALLAN POE Edgar Poe Eulalie F. W. HULME fair feel fell flowers FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD friends garden genius glory golden happy HARRISON WEIR hath hear heart heaven holy hope human Israfel Jacinta JAMES GODWIN Lalage light lone maiden melancholy melody moon mother never Nevermore night o'er passion Poe's poems poet poetry Politian Quoth the Raven radiant rolls Runic rhyme SCENES FROM POLITIAN seraph sere shadow shore sigh skies sleep smile sorrow soul spirit stars strange sure sweet tell thee things thou art throne Ulalume unto violet voice wanderer wild wind wing words youth
Popular passages
Page 43 - 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 39 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,— " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore !" Quoth the Raven,
Page 41 - 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 39 - 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 37 - 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.
Page 61 - HEAR the sledges with the bells, Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Page 42 - 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 68 - 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 xix - 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. Lo! 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! ISRAFEL And the angel Israfel,...
Page 42 - 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!