Edgar Allan Poe

Were I called on to define, very briefly, the term art, I should call it "the Reproduction of what the read more

Were I called on to define, very briefly, the term art, I should call it "the Reproduction of what the senses perceive in nature through the veil of the mist

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream read more

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

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.

Filled with mingled cream and amber I will drain that glass again. Such hilarious visions clamber Through the chambers of read more

Filled with mingled cream and amber I will drain that glass again. Such hilarious visions clamber Through the chambers of my brain -- Quaintest thoughts -- queerest fancies Come to life and fade away; Who cares how time advances? I am drinking ale today.

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