Пользовательского поиска

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”.

Thus 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 lamp-light

gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light

gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed

from an unseen censer

Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls 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,

 

ßíäåêñ öèòèðîâàíèÿ Rambler's Top100

Ãëàâíàÿ

Òðèãåíåðàöèÿ

Íîâîñòè ýíåðãåòèêè

Ñî÷è-2014,íîâîñòè ñïîðòà