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Explication of Poe's Poems


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             Then this black bird, deceiving my sad state into smiling, by the serious and firm manners.
             of the air it wore, I said, "Although your top is cropped like a monk's taking a vow of humility,.
             you sure aren't a coward. Ghastly, grim and ancient raven wandering away from hell- What's.
             your name on the shores of hell?- (43-47). The raven replied "Nevermore- (48). I marveled at this.
             simple fowl speaking back so clearly, although its answer had little meaning or relevancy (49-50).
             We can't help but agree that no earthly being was ever blessed yet with seeing a bird or beast.
             named "Nevermore,"" upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door (51-54). .
             But the raven, sitting alone on the calm bust, spoke only that one word, as if it were the.
             only word his soul could outpour (55-56). He didn't say anything further, nor fluttered a feather,.
             until I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have left me before- tomorrow he will leave.
             me, like my hopes have flown before."" And the raven replied, "Nevermore- (57-60). I pondered.
             at the interrupted silence by the aptly spoken reply (61). "Indisputably,"" I said, "this bird utters the.
             only word it learned from an unhappy master whom bad luck followed. Whenever he begged for.
             hope, only stern despair returned instead of the sweet hope he dared adjure.""(62-65). The raven.
             sadly answered, "Never- nevermore-(66). .
             But the raven still deceived my sad soul into smiling (67). I wheeled a cushioned seat.
             straight in front of the bird, bust, and door (68). As I sank into the velvet, I took myself to.
             thinking what this foreboding, solemn, ungraceful, grisly, haggard old bird meant by croaking.
             "Nevermore-(69-72). I sat engaged in guessing this, but did not express a word to the fowl.
             whose blazing eyes now burned into my heart (73-74). I sat speculating, with my head resting on.
             the cushion's illuminated velvet lining, where Lenore would never sit again (75-78). Then, I.
             imagine, the air grew thicker, scented from something unseen raised by angels whose faint.


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