- Sound loves to revel in a summer night.
- All that we see or seem, Is but a dream within a dream.
- Years of love have been forgot, In the hatred of a minute.
- To the glory that was Greece, And the grandeur that was Rome.
- From a proud tower in the town, Death looks gigantically down.
- Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
- This maiden she lived with no other thought, Than to love and be loved by me.
- And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor, Shall be lifted -- Nevermore!
- Can it be fancied that Deity ever vindictively, Made in his image a mannikin merely to madden it?
- I would define, in brief, the Poetry of words as the Rhythmical Creation of Beauty. Its sole arbiter is Taste.
- Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
- And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain, Thrilled me -- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before.
- Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dreamed before.
- Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells, From the bells, bells, bells.
- Hear the mellow wedding bells, Golden bells! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells, Through the balmy air of night, How they ring out their delight!
- And all my days are trances, And all my nightly dreams, Are where thy dark eye glances, And where thy footstep gleams -- In what ethereal dances, By what eternal streams.
- The skies they were ashen and sober; The leaves they were crisped and sere -- The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October, Of my most immemorial year.
- The object, Truth, or the satisfaction of the intellect, and the object, Passion, or the excitement of the heart, are, although attainable, to a certain extent, in poetry, far more readily attainable in prose.
