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Книги Книги 101 - 110 из 135 по запросу Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember....
" 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... "
The Dublin University Magazine - Стр. 304
1875
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The Raven and Other Writings

Edgar Allan Poe - 2003 - Страниц: 418
...I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more." 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 —...
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The New Anthology of American Poetry: Traditions and Revolutions, Beginnings ...

Steven Gould Axelrod, Camille Roman, Thomas J. Travisano - 2003 - Страниц: 736
...I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door— Only this, and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. From my books surcease of sorrow— sorrow for the lost Lenore — For the rare and radiant maiden...
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Der rothe Doktor von Chicago: ein deutsch-amerikanisches ...

Axel W.-O. Schmidt - 2003 - Страниц: 602
...muttered, „tapping at my chamber door Only this and nothing more". (2) Ah, distinctly I remembered 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...
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Gender and the Poetics of Reception in Poe's Circle

Eliza Richards - 2004 - Страниц: 238
...the air, the purple curtain Swelleth in and swelleth out around her motionless pale brows. 3 ' POE: And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple...filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before. (CMP 364; 13-14) In both poems, a male poet speaks of his unattainable love. Barrett's poet closely...
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Literary Ideas and Scripts for Young Playwrights

Lisa Kaniut Cobb - 2004 - Страниц: 176
...visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more. 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 —...
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500 Years of New Words

Bill Sherk - 2004 - Страниц: 312
...I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door — "Only this and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. . . 1773 GALLICIZE Once more we open Merriam-Webster, which offers this definition of gallicize: "to...
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Poetry: The Basics

Jeffrey Wainwright - 2004 - Страниц: 223
...we can see that Poe wants the full continuous effect of the longer line: Ah, distinctly 1 remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Besides the iambic and the trochaic feet there are two other, less common metres that employ not two...
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Great Short Works of Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe - 2009 - Страниц: 576
...I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more." 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; — vamly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow —...
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Hick Flicks: The Rise and Fall of Redneck Cinema

Scott Von Doviak - 2015 - Страниц: 232
...feel free to make your own judgment as to his relative talent with a quill: "Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor." — Edgar Allan Poe, "The Raven" "Keep away from Pumpkinhead unless you're tired of living, His enemies...
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The Bridges of Avalon: Science, Spirit, and the Quest for Unity

Nicholas A. Reiter, Lori Schillig - 2005 - Страниц: 208
...illusion-filled, yet ever hopeful, Bridges to the Apple Isle — The Bridges of Avalon. The Bridge of the Visitors And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple...filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating "'T is some visitor entreating entrance...
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