In the deepest slumber-no! In delirium-no! In a swoon-no! In death-no! even in the grave all is not lost.

They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.

And so, being young and dipt in folly, I fell in love with melancholy.

Every moment of the night Forever changing places And they put out the star-light With the breath from their pale faces

No murmur arose from its bed, and so gently it wandered along, that the pearly pebbles upon which we loved to gaze, far down within its bosom, stirred not at all, but lay in a motionless content, each in its own old station, shining on gloriously forever.

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 if some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--Only this and nothing more.

To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary.