The Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe: With Original MemoirJ. S. Redfield, 1858 - Всего страниц: 247 |
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Стр. xviii
... feeling exists , that in probing the lives of poets we may learn something of the art by which they produced their works . But it is like the useless labour of Reynolds , who scraped a painting by Titian to learn the secret of his ...
... feeling exists , that in probing the lives of poets we may learn something of the art by which they produced their works . But it is like the useless labour of Reynolds , who scraped a painting by Titian to learn the secret of his ...
Стр. xix
... and Willis have sketched him with gentleness and a reverent feeling for his genius ; and Griswold , his literary executor , in his fuller biography , has generously suppressed much that he might have given . xix MEMOIR .
... and Willis have sketched him with gentleness and a reverent feeling for his genius ; and Griswold , his literary executor , in his fuller biography , has generously suppressed much that he might have given . xix MEMOIR .
Стр. xxx
... feeling , which made his criticisms so severe , and procured him a host of enemies among persons towards whom he never entertained any personal ill - will . He criticised his own productions with the same severity that he exercised ...
... feeling , which made his criticisms so severe , and procured him a host of enemies among persons towards whom he never entertained any personal ill - will . He criticised his own productions with the same severity that he exercised ...
Стр. 8
... feel no wrong ! The sweet Lenore hath " gone before , " with Hope , that flew beside , Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride --- For her , the fair and débonnaire , that now so lowly lies , The life upon ...
... feel no wrong ! The sweet Lenore hath " gone before , " with Hope , that flew beside , Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride --- For her , the fair and débonnaire , that now so lowly lies , The life upon ...
Стр. 14
... feel ye now - I feel ye in your strength- O spells more sure than e'er Judæan king Taught in the gardens of Gethsemane ! O charms more potent than the rapt Chaldee Ever drew down from out the quiet stars ! Here , where a hero fell , a ...
... feel ye now - I feel ye in your strength- O spells more sure than e'er Judæan king Taught in the gardens of Gethsemane ! O charms more potent than the rapt Chaldee Ever drew down from out the quiet stars ! Here , where a hero fell , a ...
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A. M. MADOT Aaraaf Al Aaraaf ALESSANDRA Allan amid angels ANNABEL LEE Auber BALDAZZAR beauty bells beneath bird BIRKET FOSTER breast breath bright Broadway Journal CASTIGLIONE chamber door Cooper death didst dost dream Earl of Leicester Earth EDGAR ALLAN POE Eulalie F. R. PICKERSGILL fair fancy feel fell flowers gentle glory golden happy hath hear heart heaven Israfel JACINTA JASPER CROPSEY JOHN TENNIEL lake LALAGE Lenore light lone maiden melody moon never Nevermore night o'er odours passion poem poet POETIC PRINCIPLE poetical poetry POLITIAN quarrel Quoth the Raven rhyme SCENES FROM POLITIAN seraph shadow sigh skies sleep smile song sorrow soul sound speak spirit stars strange sweet tears thee things thou art thou hast thro throne Truth ULALUME unto voice W. J. Linton wandering wave wild wind wing words young
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Стр. 44 - 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...
Стр. 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! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Стр. 245 - And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Стр. 33 - Hear the loud alarum bells, Brazen bells! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire...
Стр. 240 - Still, for all slips of hers, One of Eve's family — . Wipe those poor lips of hers Oozing so clammily. Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses ; Whilst wonderment guesses Where was her home ? Who was her father ? Who was her mother ? Had she a sister ? Had she a brother ? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other ? Alas ! for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun ! Oh ! it was pitiful ! Near a whole city full, Home she had none.
Стр. 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 lamplight gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining With the lamplight gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore I Then methought the air grew denser, Perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls Tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...
Стр. 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...
Стр. 34 - 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...
Стр. 6 - 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 !
Стр. 31 - 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...