Edgar Allan Poe

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.

Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells
read more

Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten golden notes,
And all in tune
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens while she gloats
On the moon!

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.

Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.

All that you see or seem, is but a dream within a dream. They who dream by day are cognizant read more

All that you see or seem, is but a dream within a dream. They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.