Poetical Works of Edgar Allan PoeG. Routledge & Sons Limited, 1869 - 271 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 19
Page 13
... wings Invisible Woe ! " she compares to those which overwhelmed D Quincey at the burial of his sweet sister an playmate . We linger somewhat over thi little - known epoch of Poe's story , because w are perfectly convinced that Mrs ...
... wings Invisible Woe ! " she compares to those which overwhelmed D Quincey at the burial of his sweet sister an playmate . We linger somewhat over thi little - known epoch of Poe's story , because w are perfectly convinced that Mrs ...
Page 112
... wings upon ing them in his emb expectant archangel tellect , stepping out interpreting the tim luxury in a world which we fear in ma ship as the inspirati " But my object i thoughts upon the Poe was not to atter but to say what m that ...
... wings upon ing them in his emb expectant archangel tellect , stepping out interpreting the tim luxury in a world which we fear in ma ship as the inspirati " But my object i thoughts upon the Poe was not to atter but to say what m that ...
Page 113
... wings upon his heart , and almost clasp- ing them in his embrace . Of them , and as an expectant archangel of that high order of in- tellect , stepping out of himself as it were , and interpreting the time he reveled in delicious luxury ...
... wings upon his heart , and almost clasp- ing them in his embrace . Of them , and as an expectant archangel of that high order of in- tellect , stepping out of himself as it were , and interpreting the time he reveled in delicious luxury ...
Page 139
... wings of Night , As a feather is wafted downward From an Eagle in his flight . I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist , And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me That my soul cannot resist ; A feeling of ...
... wings of Night , As a feather is wafted downward From an Eagle in his flight . I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist , And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me That my soul cannot resist ; A feeling of ...
Page 172
... We rule the hea rule " With a despotic s " We are not impot " Not all our fame- " Not all the magic " Not all the wonde " Not all the myste por rror she spoke , letting sink her Wings until they THE COLISEUM . The Coliseum,
... We rule the hea rule " With a despotic s " We are not impot " Not all our fame- " Not all the magic " Not all the wonde " Not all the myste por rror she spoke , letting sink her Wings until they THE COLISEUM . The Coliseum,
Other editions - View all
Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe Edgar Allan Poe,Nathaniel Parker Willis,John Henry Ingram No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
admired Al Aaraaf alluded angels ANNABEL LEE appeared beautiful bells bird Broadway Journal chamber door character Clemm Conchology critical critique dear death dream Edgar Allan Poe Edgar Poe Elizabeth Barrett Browning excitement eyes fair fame fancy feel flowers Fordham genius gentle Graham's Graham's Magazine Gris Griswold hath Haunted Palace heart Heaven honor hope Journal knew lady Lalage Lenore letter Ligeia light literary magazine memory ment Mesmeric Revelations Messenger mind moon mother N. P. Willis nature never Nevermore night o'er Pabodie Passion Poe's poem poet poet's Poetic Principle poetical poetry Politian poor published Raven remarks Richmond seemed smile song soul speak spirit stars story strange sweet thee thine thing thou tion true truth Ulalume unto voice Whitman wife Willis wonderful words writings written
Popular passages
Page 162 - Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." "Prophet!" said I, "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 !
Page 148 - 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.
Page 160 - 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, "Nevermore...
Page 161 - 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 157 - OXCE 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 180 - Hear the tolling of the bells, Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a .groan.
Page 179 - 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...
Page 182 - A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful ANNABEL LEE ; So that her highborn kinsman came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea.
Page 145 - 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! O, it was pitiful! Near a whole city full, Home she had none.
Page 185 - And all with pearl and ruby glowing Was the fair palace door, Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing, And sparkling evermore, A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty Was but to sing, In voices of surpassing beauty, The wit and wisdom of their king.