| Charlotte Fiske Bates - 1832 - 1022 páginas
...velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methonght, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer...this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." "Prophet!" said T, "thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil... | |
| 1845 - 778 páginas
...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 angels, whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted flour. " Wretch," I cried, " thy God hath lent... | |
| 1848 - 780 páginas
...an unseen censer Swing by angels, whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. ' Wretch.' 1 cried, ' thy God hath lent thee— by these angels he hath sent tbee Respite— respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore ! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe,... | |
| 1845 - 648 páginas
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| Edgar Allan Poe - 1884 - 44 páginas
[ O conteúdo desta página está restrito ] | |
| 1845 - 732 páginas
...M-tvo"o volvot vinlpf lining with iho bHtlpligllt jçtoatillg О'бГ, She shall press, ah, nevermore ! p'q'r's' &O'8'9'k'y& $ $ angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. " Wretch," I cried, " thy God hath lent... | |
| 1845 - 688 páginas
...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 angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. " Wretch," I cried," thy God hath lent thee... | |
| 1847 - 434 páginas
...that the lamplight gloated o'er, Bat whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er. She shall press, ah, nevermore I Then, methought, the...grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer, Swung by angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. " Wretch," I cried, " thy God hath lent... | |
| Thomas Powell - 1850 - 384 páginas
...methought, the ah- grew denser, Perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by angels whose faint foot-falls From thy memories of Lenore ! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe And forget this lost Lenore !' Quoth the raven, ' Nevermore."' "'Be that word our sign of parting, Bird or fiend !' I shrieked,... | |
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