The Bells, and Other Poems

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 14

length of tress,
And this all solemn silentness!

The lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep,
Which is enduring, so be deep!
Heaven have her in its sacred keep!
This chamber changed for one more holy,
This bed for one more melancholy,
I pray to God that she may lie
For ever with unopened eye,
While the pale sheeted ghosts go by!

My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep
As it is lasting, so be deep!
Soft may the worms about her creep!
Far in the forest, dim and old,
For her may some tall vault unfold--
Some vault that oft has flung its black
And wingèd panels fluttering back,
Triumphant, o'er the crested palls,
Of her grand family funerals--
Some sepulchre, remote, alone,
Against whose portal she hath thrown,
In childhood, many an idle stone--
Some tomb from out whose sounding door
She ne'er shall force an echo more,
Thrilling to think, poor child of sin!
It was the dead who groaned within.






_ULALUME_


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;
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,
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
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.

[Illustration: Ulalume]

Our talk had been serious and sober,
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!)
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

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Text Comparison with La Murdoj de Kadavrejo-Strato

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Page 2
Homoj havantaj la plej altkvalitan intelekton lauxraporte distrigxas pretermezure gxin ludante dum ili sin senigas kontente je sxakludado, taksante tiulastan frivola.
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Foje kaj refoje, denove kaj redenove, ni ekkunestis.
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La entrepreno ofte plenas je intereso.
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Ke vi jes ja kunligis ilin mi konsciis vidinte la karakteron de la rideto transpasinta viajn lipojn.
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Gxin kontrolante, oni rimarkis multajn ekskoriajxojn sendube okazigitajn pro la perforto per kiu gxi ensxovigxis kaj eltirigxis.
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Ili auxdigxis sxajne kiel kriacxoj de homo/homoj spertanta/spertantaj grandan doloregon.
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Tiu atestinto memvole proponis sian ateston.
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Auxdis klare '_sacre_' kaj '_mon Dieu_.
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Opinias gxin vocxo de Ruso.
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Konfirmis la atestajxojn kaj opiniojn de S-ro Dumaso.
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.
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Lia nuna humoro instigis lin malkonsenti konversacii pri la murdoj antaux cxirkaux tagmezo de la sekvinta tago.
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Dauxran tiurilatan enketadon tial oni jugxis ne plu bezoni.
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Mia amiko dauxrigis sian diskurson.
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Preskaux la tutan sumon menciitan de S-ro Minjodo, la bankisto, oni trovis surplanke, en sakoj.
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Se la koncerna Franco laux mia supozo jes ja senkulpas pri tiu abomenajxo, cxi-tiu reklamo, kiun hierauxnokte post nia hejmenreveno mi liveris al la oficejo de _La Mondo_ (jxurnalo pritraktanta sxipajn aferojn kaj multe legata de maristoj) alvenigos lin al nia logxejo.
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Mi promesas al vi, honestavorte de sinjoro kaj de Franco, ke ni neniel intencas vin difekti.
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Kiam li atingis tamen la nivelon de la fenestro, kiu situis malproksime maldekstre, lia suprenirado cxesis.
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La vortoj auxditaj de la homoj sur la sxtuparo estis la horor-kaj-timplenaj ekkrioj de la Franco intermiksitaj kun la demona babilacxado de la bruto.