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" And 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 lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the... "
Handbuch der nordamericanischen National-Literatur: Sammlung von ... - 52. oldal
szerző: Ludwig Herrig - 1854 - 119 oldal
Teljes nézet - Információ erről a könyvről

The Southern literary messenger, 11. kötet

1845 - 778 oldal
...upstarting — " Gel thee Irack into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore ! Leave no Mack plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my...sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas jiut alrcve my chamber door ; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming, And the...

The Southern literary messenger, 14. kötet

1848 - 780 oldal
...upstarting — ' Get thee back into the tempest, and the Night's Plutonian shore ! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my...above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and lake thy form from off my door!' Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore.' " And the raven, never flitting, still...

The American Whig Review, 1. kötet

1845 - 732 oldal
...upstarting — " Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore ! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my...pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door ; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws...

The American Whig Review, 1. kötet

1845 - 688 oldal
...upstarting — " Get thce back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore ! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my...pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door ; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws...

The Literary Emporium, 1-2. kötet

1847 - 434 oldal
...of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my loneliness unbroken ! — quit the bust above my door I Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form...pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door ; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws...

The Living Authors of America: 1st ser

Thomas Powell - 1850 - 384 oldal
...upstarting — Get thee back into the tempest And the Night's Plutonian shore ! Leave no black plume as a token Of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my...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 lamp-light o'er him streaming,...

The Works of the Late Edgar Allan Poe: The literati

Edgar Allan Poe, Rufus Wilmot Griswold, Nathaniel Parker Willis, James Russell Lowell - 1850 - 642 oldal
...and the Night's Plutonian shore I Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken 1 Leave my loneliness unbroken ! — quit the bust above...from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door 1* Quoth the raven " Nevermore." Sixteenth — concerns the rhythm. Outis's is iambic — mine the...

The Irish Quarterly Review, 5. kötet,1. rész

1855 - 724 oldal
...upstarting— ' Get thee back into the tempest, and the night's Plutonian shore ! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my...heart, and take thy form from off my door ! ' Quoth the Raveu, ' Never more.' And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting, On the pallid...

The United States Democratic Review, 28. kötet

1851 - 608 oldal
...thee back into the tempest, and the Night's Plutonian shore! , Leave no black plume as a token ofthat lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my loneliness unbroken...take thy form from off my door !" Quoth the Raven, " Never more." In those elegant stanzas, the question in the first quoted is not more beautifully put...

The United States Magazine and Democratic Review, 28. kötet

1851 - 702 oldal
...maiden, whom the апце!з name Lenore." Quoth the Raven, " Never more." Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my...! — quit the bust above my door ! Take thy beak (rum out my heurt, and take thy form from off my doori" Quoth the Haven, " Never more." In those elegant...




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