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| John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919. |
| Edgar Allan Poe. (1809–1849) |
| 1 |
| All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. |
| A Dream within a Dream. |
| 2 |
| Sound loves to revel in a summer night. |
| Al Aaraaf. |
| 3 |
| Years of love have been forgot In the hatred of a minute. |
| To ———. |
| 4 |
| From a proud tower in the town Death looks gigantically down. |
| The City in the Sea. |
| 5 |
| Vastness! and Age! and Memories of Eld! Silence! and Desolation! and dim Night! |
| The Coliseum. |
| 6 |
| This—all this—was in the olden Time long ago. |
| The haunted Palace. |
| 7 |
| Unthought-like thoughts that are the souls of thought, |
| To ———. |
| 8 |
| This maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. |
| Annabel Lee. |
| 9 |
| Keeping time, time, time In a sort of Runic rhyme To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells. |
| The Bells. |
| 10 |
| Hear the mellow wedding bells Golden bells! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight! |
| The Bells. |
| 11 |
| And all my days are trances And all my nightly dreams Are where thy dark eye glances And where thy footstep gleams— In what ethereal dances By what eternal streams. |
| To One in Paradise. |
| 12 |
| 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. |
| The Raven. |
| 13 |
| Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. |
| The Raven. |
| 14 |
| And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before. |
| The Raven. |
| 15 |
| Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dreamed before. |
| The Raven. |
| 16 |
| Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,— Perched, and sat, and nothing more. |
| The Raven. |
| 17 |
| Whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster. |
| The Raven. |
| 18 |
| Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door! Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.” |
| The Raven. |
| 19 |
| And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted—Nevermore! |
| The Raven. |
| 20 |
| To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome. |
| To Helen. |
| 21 |
| The skies they were ashen and sober; The leaves they were crisped and sere— The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October Of my most immemorial year. |
| Ulalume. |
| 22 |
| Here once, through an alley Titanic, Of cypress, I roamed with my soul,— Of cypress, with Psyche, my soul. |
| Ulalume. |
| 23 |
| A Quixotic sense of the honorable—of the chivalrous. |
| Letter to Mrs. Whitman. Oct. 18, 1848. |
| 24 |
| The object, Truth, or the satisfaction of the intellect, and the object, Passion, or the excitement of the heart, are, although attainable, to a certain extent, in poetry, far more readily attainable in prose. |
| The Philosophy of Composition. |
| 25 |
| I would define, in brief, the Poetry of words as the Rhythmical Creation of Beauty. Its sole arbiter is Taste. |
| The poetic Principle. |
| 26 |
| Can it be fancied that Deity ever vindictively Made in his image a mannikin merely to madden it? 1 |
| The Rationale of Verse. |
| Note 1. FitzGerald: Omar Khayyám. What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke A conscious Something to resent the yoke. [back] |
| CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD · AUTHOR INDEX · CONCORDANCE INDEX | ||||
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