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ALESSANDRA amid angels appearance BALDAZZAR beauty bells beneath bird BIRKET FOSTER breath bright called CASTIGLIONE Cooper dark dead death deep didst died door dream Earth eyes fair fall fancy feel fell fire flowers gentle give glory golden hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hope human Jacinta keep known lake LALAGE late leave Lenore light lines lived lone look maiden melody moon mountain never night o'er once passion poem poet poetical poetry POLITIAN quarrel Raven rest river seen shadow shore sigh sleep smile song sorrow soul sound speak spirit star strange sure sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thou art thought throne true Truth unto voice W. J. Linton wave wild wind wing young
Page 42 - 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.
Page 90 - On seas less hideously serene. But lo, a stir is in the air! The wave — there is a movement there! As if the towers had thrust aside, In slightly sinking, the dull tide — As if their tops had feebly given A void within the filmy Heaven.
Page 243 - T was folly not sooner to shun ; And if dearly that error hath cost me, And more than I once could foresee, I have found that, whatever it lost me, It could not deprive me of thee.
Page 244 - TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Page 6 - 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! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Page 37 - 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, All alone, And who tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone — They are neither man nor woman, They are neither brute nor human, They are Ghouls...
Page 42 - 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, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
Page 243 - To pain— it shall not be its slave. There is many a pang to pursue me ; They may crush, but they shall not contemn; They may torture, but shall not subdue me; 'Tis of thee that I think— not of them.