The Complete Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe Including Essays on Poetry

By Edgar Allan Poe

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To F----
To Frances S. Osgood
A Dream within a Dream
To Marie Louise (Shew)
To the Same
The City in the Sea
The Sleeper,
Bridal Ballad

To one in Paradise
The Coliseum
The Haunted Palace
The Conqueror Worm
To Zante


Introduction (1831)
To Science
Al Aaraaf
To Helen
The Valley of Unrest
To----("I heed not that my earthly lot")
To----("The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see")
To the River----
Spirits of the Dead
A Dream
The Lake
Evening Star
"The Happiest Day,"
Hymn. Translation from the Greek
"In Youth I have known one"
A Paean

To Isadore
The Village Street
The Forest Reverie

The Island of the Fay
The Power of Words
The Colloquy of Monos and Una
The Conversation of Eiros and Charmion
Shadow--A Parable
Silence--A Fable

The Poetic Principle
The Philosophy of Composition
Old English Poetry


During the last few years every incident in the life of Edgar Poe has
been subjected to microscopic investigation. The result has not been
altogether satisfactory. On the one hand, envy and prejudice have
magnified every blemish of his character into crime, whilst on the
other, blind admiration would depict him as far "too good for human
nature's daily food." Let us endeavor to judge him impartially, granting
that he was as a mortal subject to the ordinary weaknesses of mortality,
but that he was tempted sorely, treated badly, and suffered deeply.

The poet's ancestry and parentage are chiefly interesting as explaining
some of the complexities of his character. His father, David Poe, was of
Anglo-Irish extraction. Educated for the Bar, he elected to abandon it
for the stage. In one of his tours through the chief towns of the United
States he met and married a young actress, Elizabeth Arnold, member of
an English family distinguished for its musical talents. As an actress,
Elizabeth Poe acquired some reputation, but became even better known for
her domestic virtues. In those days the United States afforded little
scope for dramatic energy, so it is not surprising to

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Text Comparison with The Bells, and Other Poems

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Now--now to sit or never, .
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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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Ah, less--less bright The stars of the night Than the eyes of the radiant girl! And never a flake That the vapour can make With the moon-tints of purple and pearl, Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl-- Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie’s most humble and careless curl.
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by the sea; But we loved with a love which was more than love-- I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the wingèd seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.
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Nothing further then he uttered--not a feather then he fluttered-- Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before-- On the morrow _he_ will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.
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Shall be lifted--nevermore! [Illustration: The Raven] _TO ONE IN PARADISE_ Thou wast all that to me, love, For which my soul did pine-- A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a shrine, All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, And all the flowers were mine.
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The waves have now a redder glow-- The hours are breathing faint and low-- And when, amid no earthly moans, Down, down that town shall settle hence, Hell, rising from a thousand thrones, Shall do it reverence.
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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-- 'Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!" Then my heart it grew ashen and sober As the leaves that were crisped and sere-- As the leaves that were withering and sere; And I cried--"It was surely October 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? 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.
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It _is_ not that my founts of bliss Are gushing--strange! with tears-- Or that the thrill of a single kiss Hath palsied many years-- 'Tis not that the flowers of twenty springs Which have wither'd as they rose Lie dead on my heart-strings With the weight of an age of snows.
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'Twas a sweet time for Nesace--for there Her world lay lolling on the golden air, Near four bright suns--a temporary rest-- An oasis in desert of the blest.
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[Illustration: Al Aaraaf] Ligeia! Ligeia! My beautiful one! Whose harshest idea Will to melody run, O! is it thy will On the breezes to toss? Or, capriciously still, Like the lone Albatross, Incumbent on night (As she on the air) To keep watch with delight .
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Methought, my sweet one, then I ceased to soar And fell--not swiftly as I rose before, But with a downward, tremulous motion thro' Light, brazen rays, this golden star unto! Nor long the measure of my falling hours, For nearest of all stars was thine to ours-- Dread star! that came, amid a night of mirth, A red Daedalion on the timid Earth.
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Maris Louise Shew)] _EVENING STAR_ 'Twas noontide of summer, And mid-time of night; And stars in their orbits, Shone pale, thro' the light Of the brighter, cold moon, 'Mid planets her slaves, Herself in the Heavens, Her beam on the waves.
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The breeze, the breath of God, is still, And the mist upon the.
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In the morning they arise, And their moony covering Is soaring in the skies, With the tempests as they toss, Like-almost anything-- Or a yellow Albatross.
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We rule the hearts of mightiest men--we rule With a despotic sway all giant minds.
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On mountain soil I first drew life: The mists of the Taglay have shed Nightly their dews upon my head, And, I believe, the wingèd strife And tumult of the headlong air Have nestled in my very hair.
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I have no words--alas!--to tell The loveliness of loving well! Nor would I now attempt to trace The more than beauty of a face Whose lineaments, upon my mind, Are----shadows on th' unstable wind Thus I remember having dwelt Some page of early lore upon, With loitering eye, till I have felt The letters--with their meaning--melt To fantasies--with none.
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