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

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 137

And the fine fibrils of its life
By the rude wrong of instant strife
Are broken at a blow--
Within the heart
Do springs upstart
Of which it doth now know,
And strange, sweet dreams,
Like silent streams
That from new fountains overflow,
With the earlier tide
Of rivers glide
Deep in the heart whose hope has died--
Quenching the fires its ashes hide,--
Its ashes, whence will spring and grow
Sweet flowers, ere long,--
The rare and radiant flowers of song!





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NOTES.


Of the many verses from time to time ascribed to the pen of Edgar Poe,
and not included among his known writings, the lines entitled "Alone"
have the chief claim to our notice. 'Fac-simile' copies of this piece
had been in possession of the present editor some time previous to its
publication in 'Scribner's Magazine' for September 1875; but as proofs
of the authorship claimed for it were not forthcoming, he refrained from
publishing it as requested. The desired proofs have not yet been
adduced, and there is, at present, nothing but internal evidence to
guide us. "Alone" is stated to have been written by Poe in the album of
a Baltimore lady (Mrs. Balderstone?), on March 17th, 1829, and the
'fac-simile' given in 'Scribner's' is alleged to be of his handwriting.
If the caligraphy be Poe's, it is different in all essential respects
from all the many specimens known to us, and strongly resembles that of
the writer of the heading and dating of the manuscript, both of which
the contributor of the poem acknowledges to have been recently added.
The lines, however, if not by Poe, are the most successful imitation of
his early mannerisms yet made public, and, in the opinion of one well
qualified to speak, "are not unworthy on the whole of the parentage
claimed for them."

Whilst Edgar Poe was editor of the 'Broadway Journal', some lines "To
Isadore" appeared therein, and, like several of his known pieces, bore
no signature. They were at once ascribed to Poe,

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

Page 8
William Wertenbaker, the recently deceased librarian, "and can testify that he was tolerably regular in his attendance, and a successful student, having obtained distinction at the final examination in Latin and French, and this was at.
Page 18
In January, 1846, Virginia Poe died; and for some time after her death the poet remained in an apathetic stupor, and, indeed, it may be truly said that never again did his mental faculties appear to regain their.
Page 24
door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-- What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore.
Page 31
The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me-- Yes!--that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.
Page 63
am sorry.
Page 68
Command me, sir! _Bal_.
Page 72
_Pol_.
Page 73
Hist! hist! it comes again! _Voice (more loudly_).
Page 80
Oh, wilt thou--wilt thou Fly to that Paradise--my Lalage, wilt thou Fly thither with me? There Care shall be forgotten, And Sorrow shall be no more, and Eros be all.
Page 89
_Duke_.
Page 95
Another than yourself might here observe, 'Shakespeare is in possession of the world's good opinion, and yet Shakespeare is the greatest of poets.
Page 97
The diffidence, then, with which I venture to dispute their authority would be overwhelming did I not feel, from the bottom of my heart, that learning has little to do with the imagination--intellect with the passions--or age with poetry.
Page 120
Thy soul shall find itself alone 'Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy.
Page 125
III.
Page 129
-- VII.
Page 145
' And why, Agathos, should they have proceeded? 'Agathos.
Page 153
By its aid I measured the irregularities of the clock upon the mantel, and of the watches of the attendants.
Page 182
_ Though the rock of my last hope is shivered, And its fragments are sunk in the wave, Though I feel that my soul is delivered To pain--it shall not be its slave.
Page 187
_ I am aware, on the other hand, that the case is by no means common, in which an author is at all in condition to retrace the steps by which his conclusions have been attained.
Page 194
With the _denouement_ proper--with the Raven's reply, "Nevermore," to the lover's final demand if he shall meet his mistress in another world--the poem, in its obvious phase, that of a simple narrative, may be said to have its completion.