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1.
"From childhood's hour I have not been, as others were-I have not seen, as others saw--I could not bring..." What poem is this? |
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2.
"Wanderers in that happy valley, through two luminous windows, saw spirits moving muscially to a lute's well-tuned law..." The poem? |
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3.
"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..." Which one is this? |
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4.
"Lo! Death has reared himself a throne in a strange city lying alone far down within the dim West, where the good and the bad and the worst and the best have gone to their eternal rest." |
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5.
"Out-out are the lights-out all! And, over each quivering form, the curtain, a funeral pall, comes down with the rush of a storm..." |
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6.
"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". |
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7.
"Thy will is done, oh, God! The star hath ridden high Thro' many a tempest, but she rode beneath the burning eye..." |
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8.
"'Wretches! ye loved her for her wealth and hated for her pride, And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her-that she died!'" |
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9.
"Of late, eternal Condor years so shake the very Heaven on high with tumult as they thunder by, I have no time for idle cares..." |
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10.
"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." |
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11.
"And oh! of all tortures THAT torture the worst has abated-the terrible torture of thirst for the naphthalilne river of passion accurst:" |
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12.
"In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, in a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, Leaping higher, higher, higher..." |
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13.
"Yet heavier far than you Petrarchan stuff-Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it. And, veritably, Sol is right enough." |
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14.
"I gaze awhile on her cold smile; too cold--too cold for me-there passed, as a shroud, a fleecy cloud..." |
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15.
"This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing to the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core..." |
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