Edgar Allan Poe

There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute which goes directly to the heart of him read more

There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere man

Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly
shore,--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on read more

Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly
shore,--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore!"

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!
read more

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.

There are few cases in which mere popularity should be considered a proper test of merit; but the case of read more

There are few cases in which mere popularity should be considered a proper test of merit; but the case of song-writing is, I think, one of the few.