Edgar Allan Poe

On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy naiad airs have read more

On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece
And the grandeur that was Rome.

With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.

With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.

And still the Raven, never flitting,
Still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of read more

And still 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 lamplight o'er him streaming
Throws his shadow on the floor,
And my soul from out that shadow,
That lies floating on the floor,
Shall be lifted--nevermore.

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not read more

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.

There are few cases in which mere popularity should be considered a proper test of merit; but the case of read more

There are few cases in which mere popularity should be considered a proper test of merit; but the case of song-writing is, I think, one of the few.