by Homer
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.’ 95
Quoth the Raven ‘Nevermore.’
‘Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked, upstarting —
‘Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door! 100
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’
Quoth the Raven ‘Nevermore.’
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, 105
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!
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Ulalume
Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849)
THE SKIES they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crispéd and sere —
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year; 5
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir —
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.
Here once, through an alley Titanic, 10
Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul —
Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
These were days when my heart was volcanic
As the scoriac rivers that roll —
As the lavas that restlessly roll 15
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek
In the ultimate climes of the pole —
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek
In the realms of the boreal pole.
Our talk had been serious and sober, 20
But our thoughts they were palsied and sere —
Our memories were treacherous and sere —
For we knew not the month was October,
And we marked not the night of the year —
(Ah, night of all nights in the year!) 25
We noted not the dim lake of Auber —
(Though once we had journeyed down here) —
Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,
Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.
And now, as the night was senescent 30
And star-dials pointed to morn —
As the star-dials hinted of morn —
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent 35
Arose with a duplicate horn —
Astarte’s bediamonded crescent
Distinct with its duplicate horn.
And I said— ‘She is warmer that Dian:
She rolls through an ether of sighs — 40
She revels in a region of sighs:
She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks, where the worm never dies
And has come past the stars of the Lion
To point us the path to the skies — 45
To the Lethean peace of the skies —
Come up, in despite of the Lion,
To shine on us with her bright eyes —
Come up through the lair of the Lion,
With love in her luminous eyes.’ 50
But Psyche, uplifting her finger,
Said— ‘Sadly this star I mistrust —
Her pallor I strangely mistrust: —
Oh, hasten! — oh, let us not linger!
Oh, fly! — let us fly! — for we must.’ 55
In terror she spoke, letting sink her
Wings until they trailed in the dust —
In agony sobbed, letting sink her
Plumes till they trailed in the dust —
Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust. 60
I replied— ‘This is nothing but dreaming:
Let us on by this tremulous light!
Let us bathe in this crystalline light!
Its Sibyllic splendor is beaming
With Hope and in Beauty to-night: — 65
See! — it flickers up the sky through the night!
Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming,
And be sure it will lead us aright —
We safely may trust to a gleaming
That cannot but guide us aright, 70
Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night.’
Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,
And tempted her out of her gloom —
And conquered her scruples and gloom;
And we passed to the end of the vista, 75
But were stopped by the door of a tomb —
By the door of a legended tomb;
And I said— ‘What is written, sweet sister,
On the door of this legended tomb?’
She replied— ‘Ulalume — Ulalume — 80
’Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!’
Then my heart is grew ashen and sober
As the leaves that were crispéd and sere —
As the leaves that were withering and sere,
And I cried— ‘It was surely October 85
On this very night of last year
That I journeyed — I journeyed down here —
That I brought a dread burden down here —
On this night of all nights in the year,
Ah, what demon has tempted me here? 90
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber —
This misty mid region of Weir —
Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber,
This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.’
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
The Bells
Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849)
I
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! 5
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 10
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells —
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
II
Hear the mellow wedding bells — 15
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight! —
From the molten-golden notes, 20
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells, 25
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! — how it tells
Of the rapture that impels 30
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells —
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells —
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! 35
III
Hear the loud alarum bells —
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
How they scream out their affright! 40
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, 45
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now — now to sit, or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon. 50
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 55
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; 60
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 — 65
Of the bells —
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells —
In the clamor and the clanging of the bells!
IV
Hear the tolling of the bells — 70
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! 75
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people — ah, the people —
They that dwell up in the steeple, 80
All alone,
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone — 85
They are neither man nor woman —
They are neither brute nor human —
They are Ghouls: —
And their king it is who tolls: —
And he rolls, rolls, rolls, 90
Rolls
A pæan from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the pæan of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells; 95
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the pæan of the bells: —
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time 100
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells —
Of the bells, bells, bells: —
To the sobbing of the bells: —
Keeping time, time, time, 105
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells —
Of the bells, bells, bells —
To the tolling of the bells — 110
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells —
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
To My Mother
Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849)
BECAUSE I feel that, in the Heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of ‘Mother,’
Therefore by that dear name I long have called you — 5
You who are more than mother unto me,
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you,
In setting my Virginia’s spirit free.
My mother — my own mother, who died early,
Was but the mother of myself; but you 10
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,
And thus are dearer than the mother I knew
By that infinity with which my wife
Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
For Annie
Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849)
THANK Heaven! the crisis —
The danger is past,
And the lingering illness
Is over at last —
And the fever called ‘Living’ 5
Is conquered at last.
Sadly, I know
I am shorn of my strength,
And no muscle I move
As I lie at full length — 10
But no matter! — I feel
I am better at length.
And I rest so composedly
Now, in my bed,
That any beholder 15
Might fancy me dead —
Might start at beholding me,
Thinking me dead.
The moaning and groaning,
The sighing and sobbing, 20
Are quieted now,
With that horrible throbbing
At heart: — ah that horrible,
Horrible throbbing!
The sickness — the nausea — 25
The pitiless pain —
Have ceased with the fever
That maddened my brain —
With the fever called ‘Living’
That burned in my brain. 30
And oh! of all tortures
That torture the worst
Has abated — the terrible
Torture of thirst
For the naphthaline river 35
Of Passion accurst: —
I have drank of a water
That quenches all thirst: —
Of a water that flows,
With a lullaby sound, 40
From a spring but a very few
Feet under ground —
From a cavern not very far
Down under ground.
And ah! let it never 45
Be foolishly said
That my room it is gloomy
And narrow my bed;
For a man never slept
In a different bed — 50
And, to sleep, you must slumber
In just such a bed.
My tantalized spirit
Here blandly reposes,
Forgetting, or never 55
Regretting, its roses —
Its old agitations
Of myrtles and roses:
For now, while so quietly
Lying, it fancies 60
A holier odor
About it, of pansies —
A rosemary odor,
Commingled with pansies —
With rue and the beautiful 65
Puritan pansies.
And so it lies happily,
Bathing in many
A dream of the truth
And the beauty of Annie — 70
Drowned in a bath
Of the tresses of Annie.
She tenderly kissed me,
She fondly caressed,
And then I fell gently 75
To sleep on her breast —
Deeply to sleep
From the heaven of her breast.
When the light was extinguished,
She covered me warm, 80
And she prayed to the angels
To keep me from harm —
To the queen of the angels
To shield me from harm.
And I lie so composedly, 85
Now, in my bed,
(Knowing her love)
That you fancy me dead —
And I rest so contentedly,
Now, in my bed, 90
(With her love at my breast)
That you fancy me dead —
That you shudder to look at me,
&n
bsp; Thinking me dead: —
But my heart it is brighter 95
Than all of the many
Stars of the sky,
For it sparkles with Annie —
It glows with the light
Of the love of my Annie — 100
With the thought of the light
Of the eyes of my Annie.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Annabel Lee
Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849)
IT was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought 5
Than to love and be loved by me.
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 — 10
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling 15
My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her high-born kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea. 20
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me —
Yes! — that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night, 25
Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we —
Of many far wiser than we —
And neither the angels in heaven above, 30
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE:
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE, 35
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
