Edgar Allan Poe

Hear the sledges with the bells,
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
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Hear the sledges with the bells,
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night,
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the Heavens seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells--
From the jingling and the tingling of the bells.

The murmur that springs
From the growing of grass.

The murmur that springs
From the growing of grass.

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

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

I have great faith in fools - self-confidence my friends will call it.

I have great faith in fools - self-confidence my friends will call it.

Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things that escape those who dream only at night.

Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things that escape those who dream only at night.