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angels Annabel Lee artistic beauty bird brave breathe bright Charleston clouds Copse Hill dark dead death deep dream earth EDGAR ALLAN POE EDWARD COATE PINKNEY eyes fame Father Ryan Florence Vane flowers Furl gates of sleep gaunt band genius gifts gleam grave hath Hayne's heart heaven Henry Timrod hills of Habersham holy hope land Lanier Lenore light literature Little Giffen lyric marsh melody ment moral Nature never Nevermore night noble o'er passion Paul Hamilton Hayne pine Poe's poem poet poet's poetic poetry Raven rhyme rose Russell's Magazine says seems shadow shine sigh silence singer sketch sleep song sonnet sorrow soul South Southern Literary Messenger spirit stanza star-spangled banner stars stirred sweet sweetest sword tears thee thine thou thought truth valleys of Hall verse Virginia voice volume wave weary William Gilmore Simms wings words
Page 162 - 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 160 - 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 a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door, Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door: Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Page 158 - 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 rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore.
Page 226 - To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language ; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Page 152 - 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 155 - Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow, (This — all this — was in the olden Time long ago) And every gentle air that dallied, In that sweet day, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odor went away.
Page 164 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore!
Page 157 - Once 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 153 - I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea...