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" Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked, 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 loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above... "
The Poets and Poetry of America: To the Middle of the Nineteenth Century - 420. oldal
szerző: Rufus Wilmot Griswold - 1852 - 550 oldal
Teljes nézet - Információ erről a könyvről

The Southern literary messenger, 11. kötet

1845 - 778 oldal
...shrieked, 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..."Nevermore." And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas jiut alrcve my chamber door ; And his eyes have...

The Southern literary messenger, 14. kötet

1848 - 780 oldal
...Lenore.' Quoth the raven, ' Nevermore. "'Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked, upstarting — ' Get thee back into the tempest, and...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
...Lenore." Quoth the raven, " Nevermore." " Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend !" I shrieked, sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door ; And his eyes have...

The American Whig Review, 1. kötet

1845 - 688 oldal
...Nevermore." " Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend !" I shrieked, upstarting — " Get thce back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore...Nevermore." 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...

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...Nevermore." 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...

The Living Authors of America: 1st ser

Thomas Powell - 1850 - 384 oldal
...!' Quoth the raven, ' Nevermore."' "'Be that word our sign of parting, Bird or fiend !' I shrieked, upstarting — Get thee back into the tempest And...Nevermore.' " 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...

The Living Authors of America: 1st ser

Thomas Powell - 1850 - 382 oldal
...!' Quoth the raven, ' Nevermore.'" "'Be that word our sign of parting, Bird or fiend !' I shrieked, upstarting — Get thee back into the tempest And...Nevermore.' " 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...

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
...Lenore.' Quoth the Raven, ' Never more,' . Be that word oar sign of parting, bird or fiend ! ' I shrieked upstarting— ' Get thee back into the tempest, and...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 Magazine and Democratic Review, 28. kötet

1851 - 702 oldal
...Claep a rnre nnd radiant maiden, whom the апце!з name Lenore." Quoth the Raven, " Never more." Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul...! — 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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