Edgar Allan Poe Club
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edgar allan poe
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posted by Milah
Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had journeyed long,
hát a song,
In tìm kiếm of Eldorado.

But he grew old -
This knight so bold -
And o'er his tim, trái tim a shadow
Fell as he found
No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow -
"Shadow," đã đưa ý kiến he,
"Where can it be -
This land of Eldorado?"

"Over the mountains
Of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,"
The shade replied -
"If bạn seek for Eldorado!"
posted by Milah
Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of "Mother,"
Therefore bởi that dear name I long have called you-
bạn who are thêm than mother unto me,
And fill my tim, trái tim of hearts, where Death installed you
In setting my Virginia's spirit free.
My mother–my own mother, who died early,
Was but the mother of myself; but you
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,
And thus are dearer than the mother I knew
bởi that infinity with which my wife
Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.
posted by Milah
Take this Kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from bạn now,
Thus much let me avow-
bạn are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, hoặc in a day,
In a vision, hoặc in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see hoặc seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see hoặc seem
But a dream within a dream?
posted by Milah
Thank Heaven! the crisis-
The danger is past,
And the lingering illness
Is over at last-
And the fever called "Living"
Is conquered at last.

Sadly, I know
I am shorn of my strength,
And no muscle I move
As I lie at full length-
But no matter!-I feel
I am better at length.

And I rest so composedly,
Now, in my bed
That any beholder
Might fancy me dead-
Might start at beholding me,
Thinking me dead.

The moaning and groaning,
The sighing and sobbing,
Are quieted now,
With that horrible throbbing
At heart:-ah, that horrible,
Horrible throbbing!

The sickness-the nausea-
The pitiless pain-
Have ceased, with the fever
That maddened...
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