Edgar Allen Poe

FAIRY LAND

Dim vales-and shadow floods-
And cloudy -looking woods,
Whose forms we can't discover
For the tears that drip all over,
Huge moons there wax and wane-
again-again-again-
Every moment of the night-
Forever changinh places-
And they put out the starlight
With breath from their pale faces,
About twelve by the moon dial,
One more filmy than the rest,
(A kind wich upon trial,
They have found to be the best.)
Comes down-still down-and down,
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountains eminence,
While wide its circumference
In easy drapery falls,
Over hamlets over halls,
Wherever they may be-
O'er the strange woods-O'er the sea-
Over the spirits wing-
Over every drowsy thing-
And buries them quite
In a labryrinith of light-
And then,how deep!-O,deep!
In the passion of their sleep
In the morning they arise,
And their moon covering
The soaring skies,
With the temperatures as they toss,
Like-almost anything-
Or a yellow albatross.
They use that moon no more
For the same end as before-
Videlicet,a tent-
Wich i think extravagent:
In atomies,however,
In a shower dissever,
Of wich those butterflies
Of earth,who seek the skies,
And so come down again,
(never contented things!)
Have brought a specimen
Upon their quivering wings.

what is alll that about lol

Edgar Allen Poe was anutter dont try and understand him.Plus he wrote most of his poems while on opium.lmao

THE RAVEN

Once upon a midnight
dreary,while I pondered,
weak and weary,
over many a quaint and
curious volume of forgotton
lore,
while i nodded,nearly,
napping,suddenly there
came a tapping,
as of someone gently
rapping,rapping at my
chamber door.
"tis some visitor",I muttered,"tapping at my
chamber door-
only this and nothing more".
Ah,distinctivley i remember it
was in the bleak december,
And each seperate dying
ember wrought its ghost
upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the
morrow-vainly I had sought
to borrow.
From my books surcease of
sorrow-sorrow for the lost
Lenore-
For the rare and radiant
maiden whom the angels
named Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore
And the silken sad uncertain
rustling of each purple
curtain
Thrilled me-filled me with
fantastic terrors never felt
before,
So that now,to still that
beating of my heart,I stood repeating,
"tis some visitor entreating
entrance at my chamber
door-
Some late visitor entreating
entrance at my chamber
door,-
This is it and nothing more".
Presently my soul grew
stronger,hesitating then no
longer,
"sir,"said I,"or madam,
truly your forgiveness, i
implore.
But the fact is I was napping,
and so gentley you came
rapping,
And so faintly you came
tapping,tapping at my
chamber door,
That i scarce was sure I
heard you"- here i opened
wide the door-
Darkness there and
nothing more.
Deep into that darkness
peering long i stood there
wondering
fearing,
Doubting,dreaming dreams
no mortal ever dared to
dream before,
But the silence was unbroken,
and the stillness gave no
token,
And the only word there
spoken was the whispered
word,"Lenore".
This i whispered,and an
echo murmered back the word
"Lenore".
Back in the chamber
turning,all my soul within
me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping
Somewhat louder than before.
"surlewy"said I"surley that
is something at my window
lattice.
Let me see,then,what
thereeat is,and this mystery
explore-
Let my heart be still a
moment and this mystery
explore-
"tis the wind and nothing
more."
Open here I flung the shutter,
when,whith many a flirt and
flutter,
In there steppes a stately
raven of the saintly days of
yore
Not the least obsieance made
he,not a minute stopped or
stayed
he,
But,with mien of lored or
lady,perched above my
chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of pallas
just above my chamber door-
Perched and sat and
nothing more.
Then this ebony bird
beguiling my sad fancy into
smiling,
By the grave and stern
decorum of the countenance
it wore
"though thy crest be shorn
and shaven,thou,"Isaid,"art
sure no
craven,
ghastly grim and ancient
raven wondering from the
nightly shore-
tell me what thy lordly name
is on the night plutonium
shore!"
Quoth thge raven
"nevermore".
Much i marvelled this
ungainly fowl to hear
discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little
meaning-littlerelevance
bore,
for we cannot help agreeing
that no living human being
ever yet was blest with seeing
bird above his chamber door-
bird or beast upon the
sculptured bust above his
chamber door
with such name as,
"nevermore".
But the raven,sitting,lonley
on the placid bust
spoke only
that one word,as if his soul
in that word he did
outpour.
Nothing further then that he
uttered not a feather then he
fluttered
till I scarcely more than
muttered,"other friends havme
flown
before-
on the marrow he will leave
me,as my hopes have flown
before".
Then the biurd said
"Nevermore".
Startled by the stillness
broken by a reply so apptly
spoken
"Doubtless,"said I"what it
utters is its only stock and
store,
caught from some unhappy
master whom unmercifull
disaster
followed fast and follow
faster till his song one
burden bore-
till the dirges of his hope
the melancholy burden bore of
"nevermore".
But the raven still beguiling,
all my fancey into smiling,
straight i wheeled
cushioned seat in front of
bird,and bust and
door,
Then upon the velvet sinking
I betook myself to linking
Fancey unto fancey,thinking
what this ominous bird of
yore-
what this grim gaunt and ominous
bird of yore
meant in croaking
"nevermore".
This i sat engaged in
guessing,but no syllable
expressing
to the fowl whose fiery eyes
now burned into my bosoms
core,
This and more i sat divining,
with my head at ease
recling
on the cushions velvet lining
that the lamplight gloating
o'er
she shall press,
ah, nevermore
Then me thought the air grew
denser,perfumed from an
unseen censer
swung by seraphim whose
footfalls tinklied on the tufted
floor
"wretch"I crieed "they god hath
lent thee-by these
angels he
hath sent thee
respite-respite an
respite from thy memories
of Lenore".
Quoth the raven,
"nevermore".
"prophet" said I,"thing
of evil-prophet still,if bird or
devil!
by that heaven that bends
above us-by that god we
both adore-
tell this soul with sarrow
laden if, with the distern
Aidenn
I shall clasp a sainted
maiden whom the angels
named Lenore-
clasp a rare and radiant
maiden whom the angela
named lenore".
Quoth the raven
"nevermore".
"be that word or sign in
parting bird or fowl"
I shrieked
upstarting
"get thee back into
the tempest and the nights
plutonian shores,
leave no black plume as a
token of that thy soul hath
spoken!
leave my lonliness
unbroken-quit the bust
above my door!
take thy beaki from out my
heart, and take thy form from
off my
door"
Quoth the raven
"nevermore".
And the raven never fluttering
still is sitting,still is sitting
on the pallad bust of pallas
just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the
seeming of a demon that is
dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him
streaming throws his shadow
on the
floor,
and my soul from out that
shadow that is floating on
the floor
shall be lifted-nevermore.

love his work! good to know I'm not alone either. thank you sweetness