Edgar Allan Poe Poems – What Are His Most Famous Poems?
Check out some Edgar Allan Poe poems and what are his most famous writings?
EDGAR ALLAN POE POEMS – These are some of the most famous poems of Edgar Allan Poe and a brief story about his life.
At a young age, Edgar Allan Poe became an orphan. He was born in Boston, Massachusetts on January 19th, 1809. His mother died and after that, his father abandoned him. He came and lived with the Allan family where he has gotten his middle name.
He attended the University of Virginia and attempted to enter the military but failed. During his enlistment, he did Tamerlane, and Other Poems.
This is where his career in literature started. He started by making prose and later on became a literary critic. He married his 13-year-old cousin named Virginia Clemm and they lived in Baltimore, Maryland for a while. This was the time he made his instant poem entitled The Raven.
Two years after, his wife died due to tuberculosis. And after his wife died, his writings became darker. He wrote Annabel Lee, one of the darkest but greatest poems he wrote after his wife died.
Check out a few poem titles of Poe below:
- “Alone” (1875)
- “Annabel Lee” (1849)
- “The Bells” (1849)
- “The City in the Sea” (1831)
- “The Conqueror Worm” (1843)
- “Dream-Land” (1844)
- “A Dream Within A Dream” (1850)
- “Eldorado” (1849)
- “For Annie” (1849)
- “The Haunted Palace” (1839)
- “Lenore” (1845)
- “The Raven” (1845)
- “The Sleeper” (1831)
- “Sonnet – To Science” (1845)
- “Spirits of the Dead” (1829)
- “To The River” (1829)
- “A Valentine” (1850)
- “The Valley of Unrest” (1845)
- “The Haunted Palace”
- “To Helen”
- “To My Mother”
- “To One in Paradise”
- “The Valley of Unrest”
Read a couple below:
The City in the Sea
Lo! Death has reared himself a throneIn a strange city lying aloneFar down within the dim West,Where the good and the bad and the worst and the bestHave gone to their eternal rest.There shrines and palaces and towers(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)Resemble nothing that is ours.Around, by lifting winds forgot,Resignedly beneath the skyThe melancholy waters lie.No rays from the holy heaven come downOn the long night-time of that town;But light from out the lurid seaStreams up the turrets silently-Gleams up the pinnacles far and free-Up domes- up spires- up kingly halls-Up fanes- up Babylon-like walls-Up shadowy long-forgotten bowersOf sculptured ivy and stone flowers-Up many and many a marvellous shrineWhose wreathed friezes intertwineThe viol, the violet, and the vine.Resignedly beneath the skyThe melancholy waters lie.So blend the turrets and shadows thereThat all seem pendulous in air,While from a proud tower in the townDeath looks gigantically down.
There open fanes and gaping gravesYawn level with the luminous waves;But not the riches there that lieIn each idol’s diamond eye-Not the gaily-jewelled deadTempt the waters from their bed;For no ripples curl, alas!Along that wilderness of glass-No swellings tell that winds may beUpon some far-off happier sea-No heavings hint that winds have beenOn seas less hideously serene.
But lo, a stir is in the air!The wave- there is a movement there!As if the towers had thrust aside,In slightly sinking, the dull tide-As if their tops had feebly givenA void within the filmy Heaven.The waves have now a redder glow-The hours are breathing faint and low-And when, amid no earthly moans,Down, down that town shall settle hence,Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,Shall do it reverence.
A Dream Within A Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow!And, in parting from you now,Thus much let me avow —You are not wrong, who deemThat my days have been a dream;Yet if hope has flown awayIn a night, or in a day,In a vision, or in none,Is it therefore the less gone?All that we see or seemIs but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roarOf a surf-tormented shore,And I hold within my handGrains of the golden sand —How few! yet how they creepThrough my fingers to the deep,While I weep — while I weep!O God! can I not graspThem with a tighter clasp?O God! can I not saveOne from the pitiless wave?Is all that we see or seemBut a dream within a dream?
Eldorado
GAILY bedight, A gallant knight,In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song,In search of Eldorado.
But he grew old — This knight so bold —And o’er his heart a shadow Fell as he found No spot of groundThat looked like Eldorado.
And, as his strength Failed him at length,He met a pilgrim shadow — “Shadow,” said he, “Where can it be —This land of Eldorado?”
“Over the Mountains Of the Moon,Down the Valley of the Shadow, Ride, boldly ride,” The shade replied, —“If you seek for Eldorado!”
Poe died in Baltimore, Maryland in 1849 and his writings are the central pieces we dive into in literature subjects. He is a major figure in world literature. Apart from his poems, he also had profound short stories and critical theories.
His poetries and stories highly influenced the French Symbolists of the late 19th century. Some of the best-known stories include The Black Cat, The Cask of Amontillado, and The Tell-Tale Heart.
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