The happiest day- the happiest hour My sear'd and blighted heart hath known, The highest hope of pride and power, I feel hath flown. Of power! said I? yes! such I ween; But they have vanish'd long, alas! The visions of my youth have been- But let them pass. And, pride, what have I now with thee? Another brow may even inherit The venom thou hast pour'd on me Be still, my spirit! The happiest day- the happiest hour Mine eyes shall see- have ever seen, The brightest glance of pride and power, I feel- have been: But were that hope of pride and power Now offer'd with the pain Even then I felt- that brightest hour I would not live again: For on its wing was dark alloy, And, as it flutter'd- fell An essence- powerful to destroy A soul that knew it well.
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Edgar Allan Poe
Edgar Allan Poe (/poʊ/; born Edgar Poe; January 19, 1809 – October 7, 1849) was an American writer, poet, editor, and literary critic. Poe is be…
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