Poe's HelenC. Scribner's sons, 1916 - 292 pages |
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admirable Albert Dailey Alice Cary Anna Annabel Lee Annie Arcturus asserts Athenæum beautiful believe biographers charm Clemm copy correspondence criticism Curtis Dailey dear Didier dreams Eddie Edgar Allan Poe Edgar Poe Ellet Emerson endeavor engagement expressed eyes feel felt Fordham forever friends genius George William Curtis Gill Gill's Griswold heard heart Heaven hope Houghton Ingram interest kind lady lecture Lewis lines literary love-letters Lowell Mallarmé Margaret Fuller marriage Memoir memory Miss Lynch mother never Nicholas Power night Osgood Pabodie poem Poer poet poetic poetry Providence publication published Raven regard reply request Richmond Sarah Helen Whitman seems seen sent Shelton sister sorrow soul speak spirit Stanard STÉPHANE Mallarmé strange suggested sweet tell thee thought tion told translation Ulalume Valentine verses Walter Savage Landor Whit Whitman writes wish woman words written wrote
Popular passages
Page 66 - TO HELEN 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.
Page 6 - Didst glide away. Only thine eyes remained. They would not go — they never yet have gone. Lighting my lonely pathway home that night, They have not left me (as my hopes have) since. They follow me — they lead me through the years They are my ministers — yet I their slave. Their office is to illumine and enkindle — My duty, to be saved by their bright light, And purified in their electric fire, And sanctified in their elysian fire.
Page 126 - But of one thing rest assured, "Annie," — -from this day forth I shun the pestilential society of literary women. They are a heartless, unnatural, venomous, dishonorable set, with no guiding principle but inordinate self-esteem. Mrs. Osgood is the only exception I know.
Page 61 - ... stirred With fitful warblings from the nest, And the heart flutters like a bird With its sweet, passionate unrest — Oh ! then, beloved, I think on thee, And on that life, so strangely fair, Ere yet one cloud of memory Had gathered in hope's golden air. I think on thee and thy lone grave On the green hillside far away ; I see the wilding flowers that wave Around thee as the night winds...
Page 81 - I swear to you that my soul is incapable of dishonor — that, with the exception of occasional follies and excesses which I bitterly lament, but to which I have been driven by intolerable sorrow, and which are hourly committed by others without attracting any notice whatever — I can call to mind no act of my life which would bring a blush to my cheek— or to yours.
Page 88 - ... a cottage which no human being could ever pass without an ejaculation of wonder at its strange, weird, and incomprehensible yet most simple beauty. Oh, the sweet and gorgeous, but not often rare flowers in which we half buried it ! the grandeur of the magnolias and tulip-trees which stood guarding it — the luxurious velvet of its lawn — the lustre of the rivulet that ran by the very door — the tasteful yet quiet comfort of the interior — the music • — the books — the unostentatious...
Page 63 - The merest whisper that concerned you awoke in me a shuddering sixth sense, vaguely compounded of fear, ecstatic happiness and a wild inexplicable sentiment that resembled nothing so nearly as a consciousness of guilt.
Page 73 - As you entered the room, pale, hesitating, and evidently oppressed at heart ; as your eyes rested for one brief moment upon mine, I felt, for the first time in my life, and tremblingly acknowledged, the existence of spiritual influences altogether out of the reach of the reason, I saw that you were Helen — my Helen — the Helen of a thousand dreams.
Page 270 - Proclamerent tres haut le sortilege bu Dans le flot sans honneur de quelque noir melange. Du sol et de la nue hostiles, 6 grief! Si notre idee avec ne sculpte un bas-relief Dont la tombe de Poe eljlouissante s'orne. Calme bloc ici-bas chu d'un desastre obscur Que ce granit du moins montre a jamais sa borne Aux noirs vols du Blaspheme epars dans le futur.
Page 65 - Read the verses and then take into consideration the peculiar need I had, at the moment, for just so seemingly an unattainable mode of communication with you as they afforded. Think of the absolute appositeness with which they fulfilled that need — expressing not only all that I would have said of your person, but all that of which I most wished to assure you, in the lines commencing — " On desperate seas long wont to roam.