Maxioms by Edgar Allan Poe
And still the Raven, never flitting,
Still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of read more
And still the Raven, never flitting,
Still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas
Just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming
Of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming
Throws his shadow on the floor,
And my soul from out that shadow,
That lies floating on the floor,
Shall be lifted--nevermore.
Hear the sledges with the bells,
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
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Hear the sledges with the bells,
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night,
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the Heavens seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells--
From the jingling and the tingling of the bells.
The murmur that springs
From the growing of grass.
The murmur that springs
From the growing of grass.
All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
We loved with a love that was more than love.
We loved with a love that was more than love.
