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" This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But... "
The Southern literary messenger - 187. oldal
1845
Teljes nézet - Információ erről a könyvről

The Cambridge Book of Poetry and Song

Charlotte Fiske Bates - 1832 - 1022 oldal
...engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at...gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methonght, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled...

The American Whig Review, 1. kötet

1845 - 688 oldal
...engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core ; This and more I sat divining, with my head...angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. " Wretch," I cried," thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath sentthee Respite —...

The American Whig Review, 1. kötet

1845 - 732 oldal
...engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's )bi 1 r{ C 7 # ݫ ʼ57N : o}/v Q p M-tvo"o volvot vinlpf lining with iho bHtlpligllt jçtoatillg О'бГ, She shall press, ah, nevermore...

The Literary Emporium, 1-2. kötet

1847 - 434 oldal
...engaged in guessing, bat no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core ; This and more I sat divining, with my head...cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, Bat whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er. She shall press, ah, nevermore I Then,...

The Living Authors of America: 1st ser

Thomas Powell - 1850 - 382 oldal
...Nightly shore — Tell me what thy lordly name is On the Night's Plutonian shore !' Quoth the raven, ' Nevermore.' " " Then, methought, the air grew denser,...angels whose faint foot-falls Tinkled on the tufted floor. ' Wretch,' I cried, ' thy God hath lent thee, By these angels he hath sent thee Respite —...

The Living Authors of America: 1st ser

Thomas Powell - 1850 - 384 oldal
...name is On the Night's Plutonian shore !' Quoth the raven, ' Nevermore.' " " Then, methought, the ah- grew denser, Perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by angels whose faint foot-falls From thy memories of Lenore ! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe And forget this lost Lenore !' Quoth...

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

1855 - 724 oldal
...engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at...reclining On the cushion's velvet lining, that the lamp light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, Ske shall...

Eclectic Magazine: Foreign Literature, 27. kötet

John Holmes Agnew, Walter Hilliard Bidwell, Henry T. Steele - 1852 - 610 oldal
...engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now turned into my bosom's core ; This, and more, I sat divining, with my head...grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer, Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. 'Wretch!' I cried, ' thy God hath lent thee...

National Series of Selections for Reading; Adapted to the Standing ..., 4. kötet

Richard Green Parker - 1852 - 380 oldal
...engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at...lamplight gloating o'er, She shall press, ah ! nevermore ! IS. Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer, Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls...

Tales of Mystery, Imagination and Humour ...

Edgar Allan Poe - 1852 - 298 oldal
...engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at...the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, never more ! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim,...




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