The death of a beautiful woman, is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world.

And then there stole into my fancy, like a rich musical note, the thought of what sweet rest there must be in the grave.

Convinced myself, I seek not to convince.

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor, Shall be lifted -- Nevermore!

Man's real life is happy, chiefly because he is ever expecting that it soon will be so.

Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,- Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore.