Poe

TRUE! nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why WILL Ты say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How then am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily, how calmly, I can tell Ты the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain, but, once conceived, it haunted me день and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He...

The stories they have сказал(-а) were true
There was once a young girl like me and you
That loved to read Edgar Allen Poe
How her сердце felt Чтение his tales of woe

She lived in the 1800's
Rebellious, young and dark
She wanted to be a young Joan of Arc
As she ran away to see Poe

Virginia to Boston, a long long rode
As her parents were waiting for her at her humble abode
Then, she felt disbelief when she heard
The madness of Edgar Allen Poe

People disapproved of him
Trying to ruin her long strange trip
But she still goes on saying
She longs to hear his tales of murder, Любовь and woe

One день she stumbled to a home...

In Heaven a spirit doth dwell
"Whose heart-strings are a lute";
None sing so wildly well
As the Энджел Israfel,
And the giddy stars (so legends tell),
Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell
Of his voice, all mute.

Tottering above
In her highest noon,
The enamored moon
Blushes with love,
While, to listen, the red levin
(With the rapid Pleiads, even,
Which were seven,)
Pauses in Heaven.

And they say (the starry choir
And the other listening things)
That Israfeli's fire
Is owing to that lyre
By which he sits and sings-
The trembling living wire
Of those unusual strings.

But the skies that angel...