Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50)

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Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) Page 230

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!
/>   In the startled ear of night

  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

 

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