The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe, W. Heath Robinson

• Publisher: Dover Publications
• Year: 2013
• ISBN:
  9780486316222
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: American Poetry
• Index: Literature

Edgar Allan Poe's dark obsessions and fascination with the supernatural find a perfect match in W. Heath Robinson's powerful and haunting imagery. This magnificently decorated hardcover edition re-creates a 1900 publication from the famed Endymion series of illustrated poets, offering Poe's complete output of poetry in addition to his most important critical essays on the form.

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 mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness 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 I heard again 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 f...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Contents
• List of Illustrations
• Introduction
• Preface and Dedication to the Volume of 1845
• Dedication
• Poems
• Poems Written in Youth
• Scenes From “Politian”
• Letter to Mr. ——: Introduction to Poems (1831)
• Essay on the Poetic Principle
• Essay on the Philosophy of Composition