The Bells, and Other Poems

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 2

By the side of the pale-faced moon.
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
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:
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--
Of the bells--
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells--
In the clamour and the clangour of the bells!


IV.

Hear the tolling of the bells--
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!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats

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Text Comparison with The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 5

Page 15
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Page 29
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Page 43
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Page 70
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Page 119
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 On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet the ear, it fully knows, By the twanging And the clanging, .
Page 128
_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 144
While suffering from "hope deferred" as to its fate, Poe presented a copy of "Annabel Lee" to the editor of the "Southern Literary Messenger," who published it in the November number of his periodical, a month after Poe's death.
Page 148
IN the greenest of our valleys By good angels tenanted, Once a fair and stately palace-- Radiant palace--reared its head.
Page 152
For the heart whose woes are legion 'Tis a peaceful, soothing region-- For the spirit that walks in shadow 'Tis--oh 'tis an Eldorado! But the traveller, travelling through it, May not--dare not openly view it; Never its mysteries are exposed To the weak human eye unclosed; So wills its King, who hath forbid The uplifting of the fringed lid; And thus the sad Soul that here passes Beholds it but through darkened glasses.
Page 183
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My passions, from that hapless hour, Usurp'd a tyranny which men Have deem'd, since I have reach'd to power; My.
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And buries them up quite In a labyrinth of light-- And then, how deep!--O, deep! Is the passion of their sleep.
Page 217
IMITATION A dark unfathom'd tide Of interminable pride-- A mystery, and a dream, Should my early life seem; I say that dream was fraught With a wild, and waking thought Of beings that have been, Which my spirit hath not seen, Had I let them pass me by, With a dreaming eye! Let none of earth inherit That vision on my spirit; Those thoughts I would control As a spell upon his soul: For that bright hope at last And that light time have past, And my worldly rest hath gone With a sigh as it pass'd on I care not tho' it perish With a thought I then did cherish.
Page 222
Therefore, to thee this night I will no requiem raise, But waft thee on thy flight, With a Paean of old days.