The rudiment of verse may, possibly, be found in the spondee.
How much more intense is the excitement wrought in the feelings of a crowd by the contemplation of human agony, than that brought about by the most appalling spectacles of inanimate matter.
All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary.
A mystery, and a dream, should my early life seem.
The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame.