Edgar Allan Poe Club
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posted by Milah
Sancta Maria! turn thine eyes -
Upon the sinner's sacrifice,
Of fervent prayer and humble love,
From thy holy تخت above.
At morn - at noon - at twilight dim -
Maria! thou hast heard my hymn!
In joy and wo - in good and ill -
Mother of God, be with me still!

When the Hours flew brightly by,
And not a بادل obscured the sky,
My soul, lest it should truant be,
Thy grace did guide to thine and thee;

Now, when storms of Fate o'ercast
Darkly my Present and my Past,
Let my Future radiant shine
With sweet hopes of thee and thine!
added by MegaraRider
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*To me the poem represents the transitory, ephemeral nature of time and our existence. When we meet a lover it's is like we pick up a handful of sand and as the years go سے طرف کی the sand slowly creeps through our fingers. No matter how hard یا how desperately آپ try, آپ cannot stop the cascading sand, until آپ and your lover تقسیم, الگ کریں and the last grain of sand has fallen. Then all آپ have left is a memory. And when آپ and your ex-lover pass on that memory is lost in time: like a dream within a dream. The سیکنڈ half seems to be about our own mortality and the nature of our existence. Once the...
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added by Milah
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the سونا bug
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posted by Milah
The ring
is on my hand,
And the wreath is on my brow;
Satin and jewels grand
Are all at my command,
And I am happy now.

And my lord he loves me well;
But, when first he breathed his vow,
I felt my bosom swell-
For the words rang as a knell,
And the voice seemed his who fell
In the battle down the dell,
And who is happy now.

But he spoke to re-assure me,
And he kissed my pallid brow,
While a reverie came o'er me,
And to the church-yard bore me,
And I sighed to him before me,
Thinking him dead D'Elormie,
"Oh, I am happy now!"

And thus the words were spoken,
And this the plighted vow,
And, though my faith be broken,
And, though my دل be broken,
Here is a ring, as token
That I am happy now!

Would God I could awaken!
For I dream I know not how!
And my soul is sorely shaken
Lest an evil step be taken,-
Lest the dead who is forsaken
May not be happy now.
posted by EvanlovesAzula
Ok so my class saw a video on his life today....saaaaaad. Literally nothing went right for this dude. I mean even tho he wrote some damn good prose because of it, I wouldnt wish that much distress on anybody...ever. Most disturbing was the way in which he died. Nobody will ever know for sure, but the theory that he was used as a repeat voter is quite tragic. Possibly my fav story سے طرف کی him is The Masque of the Red Death...if u haven't read it, do do now. It's pretty badass.

Anyway, I'm supposed to be doing homework. But like, nawww. So yeah. I wonder if there will be a movie made about his life where someone actually plays him. I'd pay to c that any day.

Have any I'd u heard Vincent price's reading of The Raven....makes it 10 and 1/2 times scarier.

So long! :D
posted by elizasmomma
"LA MUSIQUE," says Marmontel, in those "Contes Moraux"* which in all our translations, we have insisted upon calling "Moral Tales," as if in mockery of their spirit -- "la musique est le seul des talents qui jouissent de lui-meme; tous les autres veulent des temoins." He here confounds the pleasure derivable from sweet sounds with the capacity for creating them. No مزید than any other talent, is that for موسیقی susceptible of complete enjoyment, where there is no سیکنڈ party to appreciate its exercise. And it is only in common with other talents that it produces effects which may be fully enjoyed...
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spirits of the dead
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the imp of the perverse
posted by Milah
The happiest دن -- the happiest hour
My sear'd and blighted دل hath known,
The highest hope of pride and power,
I feel hath flown.

Of power! کہا I? yes! such I ween;
But they have vanish'd long, alas!
The visions of my youth have been-
But let them pass.

And, pride, what have I now with thee?
Another brow may even inherit
The venom thou hast pour'd on me
Be still, my spirit!

The happiest دن -- the happiest hour
Mine eyes shall see -- have ever seen,
The brightest glance of pride and power,
I feel- have been:

But were that hope of pride and power
Now offer'd with the pain
Even then I felt -- that brightest hour
I would not live again:

For on its wing was dark alloy,
And, as it flutter'd -- fell
An essence -- powerful to destroy
A soul that knew it well.
posted by Milah
A dark unfathomed tide
Of interminable pride -
A mystery, and a dream,
Should my early life seem;
I say that dream was fraught
With a wild and waking thought
Of beings that have been,
Which my spirit hath not seen,
Had I let them pass me by,
With a dreaming eye!
Let none of earth inherit
That vision of my spirit;
Those thoughts I would control,
As a spell upon his soul:
For that bright hope at last
And that light time have past,
And my worldly rest hath gone
With a sigh as it passed on:
I care not though it perish
With a thought I then did cherish.
Poe Inspired Immersive theatre Experience In Baltimore MD
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