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.

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.

All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.

All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.

Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly
shore,--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on read more

Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly
shore,--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore!"

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

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