The Sleeper

At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
An opiate vapor, dewy, dim,
Exhales from out her golden rim,
And, softly dripping, drop by drop,
Upon the quiet mountain top,
Steals drowsily and musically
Into the universal valley.
The rosemary nods upon the grave;
The lily lolls upon the wave;
Wrapping the fog about its breast,
The ruin molders into rest;
Looking like Lethe, see! the lake
A conscious slumber seems to take,
And would not, for the world, awake.
All Beauty sleeps!- and lo! where lies
Irene, with her Destinies!

O, lady bright! can it be right-
This window open to the night?
The wanton airs, from the tree-top,
Laughingly through the lattice drop-
The bodiless airs, a wizard rout,
Flit through thy chamber in and out,
And wave the curtain canopy
So fitfully- so fearfully-
Above the closed and fringed lid
'Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid,
That, o'er the floor and down the wall,
Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall!
Oh, lady dear, hast thou no fear?
Why and what art thou dreaming here?
Sure thou art come O'er far-off seas,
A wonder to these garden trees!
Strange is thy pallor! strange thy dress,
Strange, above all, thy length of tress,
And this all solemn silentness!

The lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep,
Which is enduring, so be deep!
Heaven have her in its sacred keep!
This chamber changed for one more holy,
This bed for one more melancholy,
I pray to God that she may lie
For ever with unopened eye,
While the pale sheeted ghosts go by!

My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep
As it is lasting, so be deep!
Soft may the worms about her creep!
Far in the forest, dim and old,
For her may some tall vault unfold-
Some vault that oft has flung its black
And winged panels fluttering back,
Triumphant, o'er the crested palls,
Of her grand family funerals-
Some sepulchre, remote, alone,
Against whose portal she hath thrown,
In childhood, many an idle stone-
Some tomb from out whose sounding door
She ne'er shall force an echo more,
Thrilling to think, poor child of sin!
It was the dead who groaned within.

There is overwhelming imagery in this poem. Every single line creates a clear picture in my head. The tone and mood of this poem also seem to be very calming, and I like the effect that has. Poe also chooses  very strong word choice for this poem. The poem leaves you wanting more. The fact that this poem is about death (of Irene), yet is still captured in such a beautiful way just goes to show what a gifted writer Poe truly was.

Literary Devices:

Allusion: Irene, the goddess of peace in Greek mythology. (line 17) Lethe, a river in Hades in Greek mythology. (line 13)

Apostrophe: The narrator is talking to Irene, although she cannot hear what he is saying.

"O, lady bright! can it be right- This window open to the night?" (lines 18-19)

Meter: The meter of this poem is iambic tetrameter (two syllables, four feet) totaling eight syllables

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-

Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,

"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-

This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-

Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,

fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-

Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-

'Tis the wind and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and

flutter,

In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed

he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.

"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no

craven,

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."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-

Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown

before-

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."

Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of 'Never- nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and

door;

Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he

hath sent thee

Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or

devil!-

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-

On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-

Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or

devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked,

upstarting-

"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my

door!"

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And 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!

This poem is considered Edgar Allan Poe's most famous poem, and that it why it interests me. I also remember reading it in sixth grade, so I really wanted to come back six years later and reread it. The main character in the poem, the Raven, is such a unique character to write a poem about, but Poe masters it. I love the opening line; it sets the tone for the rest of the poem. On one hand, the opening seems a bit cliche, yet it still draws you in and the suspense makes you want to keep reading. The constant repetition of the word "nevermore" allows this poem to leave a lasting effect on the reader, which is probably one of the reasons it is so popular. The plethora of symbols in "The Raven" contribute to why this is such a highly regarded poem. The obvious symbol of the black raven, considered to be a bad omen, allows the speaker of the poem to think about the deceased Lenore on the dark night in December.

Literary Devices:

Allusion: Nepenthe was a mythological drug taken to forget grief.  
"Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"" (lines 82-83)

Meter: Trochaic Octameter (eight feet)

Rhyme: End Rhyme lore-door-more-floor-Lenore-evermore (lines 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12)

A Dream Within A Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow-

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand-

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep- while I weep!

O God! can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

This poem struck me because of the dream theme. Dreams have always interested me, and it surprised me to know that in the early 1800's it was a popular enough topic to include in poetry. I also find the message of the poem interesting, how he is saying that his entire life has all  been just a dream. I also like how the first stanza and the second stanza have different settings, but they still somehow work together in the same poem, because of the couplet rhyming scheme.

Literary Devices:

Meter: Trochaic Trimeter and Tetrameter (three feet and four feet)

Personification: "Yet if hope has flown away" (line 6) "Yet how they creep" (line 16)

giving hope a lifelike quality of flying, giving sand the ability to creep

Onomatopoeia: "Avow" (line 3)

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of ANNABEL LEE;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea;

But we loved with a love that was more than love-

I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven

Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsman came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,

Went envying her and me-

Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we-

Of many far wiser than we-

And neither the angels in heaven above,

Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,

In the sepulchre there by the sea,

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

This poem initially interested me because of the rhyming throughout the entire work. I also like how this poem is a love story gone wrong. The diction is strong and makes great imagery. I also thought this poem was interesting because it starts out "It was many and many a year ago" just like a story would.

Literary Devices:

Assonance: The assonance in this poem takes place on line 26 and line 32."Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee" (line 26) "Can ever dissever my soul from the soul" (line 32)
chilling-killing, can ever-dissever
Foreshadowing: The fist two stanzas foreshadow that Annabel Lee will be taken from the narrator in the climax of the poem. 
ex: "And this maiden she lived with no other thought" (line 5) "I was a child and she was a child" (line 7)
Hyperbole: Poe exaggerates the love between the narrator and Annabel Lee. 
"But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me." (lines 9-12)

Bridal Ballad

The ring is on my hand,
And the wreath is on my brow;
Satin and jewels grand
Are all at my command,
And I am happy now.


And my lord he loves me well;
But, when first he breathed his vow,
I felt my bosom swell-
For the words rang as a knell,
And the voice seemed his who fell
In the battle down the dell,
And who is happy now.


But he spoke to re-assure me,
And he kissed my pallid brow,
While a reverie came o'er me,
And to the church-yard bore me,
And I sighed to him before me,
Thinking him dead D'Elormie,
"Oh, I am happy now!"


And thus the words were spoken,
And this the plighted vow,
And, though my faith be broken,
And, though my heart be broken,
Here is a ring, as token
That I am happy now!


Would God I could awaken!
For I dream I know not how!
And my soul is sorely shaken
Lest an evil step be taken,-
Lest the dead who is forsaken
May not be happy now.

I found this poem interesting first and foremost because it is from a woman's perspective. It amazes me that Edgar Allan Poe was able to achieve writing from another view throughout an entire poem. I also found the poem interesting because it takes an abrupt turn at the end. The beginning of this poem is all about a bride getting married, but then the last stanza completely changes and starts talking about death and evil. The irony and repetition used in this poem also strike me.

Literary Devices:

Alliteration: "And my lord he loves me well" (line 6), "In the battle down the dell" (line 11) 

lord-love, down-dell.

Anaphora: "And, though my faith be broken, And, though my heart be broken" (lines 22-23)

"Lest an evil step be taken,— Lest the dead who is forsaken" (lines 29-30) Repetition of the beginning of each line: "And, though" and "Lest"

Repetition: "I am happy now" lines 5, 12, 19, 25, 31. The repetition in this poem portrays the bride's tone and also emphasizes each stanza.

Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe was born on January 19th, 1809 in Boston, Massachusetts. Poe had one brother, William, and one sister, Rosalie. When Poe was three years old, both of his parents died; him and his siblings were split up and taken in by different families. Poe was taken in by John Allan. In 1826 Poe attended University of Virginia, but did not stay for long because he was in so much debt. To earn money, Poe joined the US army in 1827. When Poe was eighteen, he published his first book Tamerlane. Poe eventually moved to Baltimore, where he entered a short story contest that he won. After winning the contest, Poe published more short stories and later acquired an editorial position at a magazine. Poe then switched to focus on writing poetry, submitting works to literary journals and newspapers. In January of 1845 Poe wrote "The Raven" arguably Poe's most famous poem. Poe was visiting Lowell, Massachusetts when he met Nancy Richmond, the woman who inspired some of his greatest poems, such as "For Annie". Edgar Allan Poe became known for his unique writing style that was all his own.


In 1847 Poe's wife died of tuberculosis. Soon after, Poe died as well. Edgar Allan Poe died on October 7th, 1849 at 40 years old. The cause of his death is still a mystery. An obituary was written for Poe that portrayed him as a drunk with no morals. However, this piece about Poe drove the sales of his books higher than ever. In total, Poe published over 30 short stories and over 50 poems. Edgar Allan Poe is still a legend to this day whose work is highly regarded by all.

My first impression of Poe's poems were that they were dark and dreary. A huge theme that I found in his poems is death. Poe has also written many poems regarding dreams. After reading about Poe's life, I can completely understand why he wrote so much about death; he did not have a very happy life to say the least. Poe has a way a capturing the reader with his words. Although I do not consider myself someone who likes to read poetry, especially poetry about death, I felt hooked while reading Poe's poems.

http://www.poemuseum.org/life.php

http://poestories.com/index.php