The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe: With an Essay on His Poetry by Andrew Lang

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Kegan Paul, Trench & Company, 1883 - 172 頁
 

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第 xxv 頁 - This it is and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you " — here I opened wide the door: — Darkness there and nothing more.
第 4 頁 - 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 lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...
第 133 頁 - 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...
第 6 頁 - And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming' And the lamplight 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!
第 xxiv 頁 - 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.
第 136 頁 - 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.
第 1 頁 - 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...
第 2 頁 - Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before; On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.
第 23 頁 - And they say (the starry choir And the other listening things) That Israfeli's fire Is owing to that lyre By which he sits and sings — The trembling living wire Of those unusual strings.
第 155 頁 - And ah! let it never Be foolishly said That my room it is gloomy And narrow my bed; For man never slept In a different bed And, to sleep, you must slumber In just such a bed. My...

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