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The Haunted Palace By Edgar Allan Poe. Greg Lancaster Austin Collins Maggie Herrera. Edgar Allan Poe. Edgar Allan Poe was born on January 19,1809 and died October 7,1849; Cause of death is unknown but can be attributed to many things including Tuberculosis.
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The Haunted PalaceBy Edgar Allan Poe • Greg Lancaster • Austin Collins • Maggie Herrera
Edgar Allan Poe Edgar Allan Poe was born on January 19,1809 and died October 7,1849; Cause of death is unknown but can be attributed to many things including Tuberculosis. He had 3 wives and each of them died of tuberculosis. He wrote The Raven, The Tell-Tale Heart, Annabel Lee. His poems and stories can be described as Gothic. Very mysterious at times.
The Haunted Palace In the greenest of our valleys By good angels tenanted,Once a fair and stately palace-Radiant palace- reared its head In the monarch Thought’s dominion-It stood there!Never seraph spread a pinionOver fabric half so fair!
The Haunted Palace Banners yellow, glorious, golden,On its roof did float and flow,(This- all this- was in the oldenTime long ago,)And every gentle air that dallied,In that sweet day,Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odor went away.
The Haunted Palace Wanderers in that happy valley,Through two luminous windows, sawSpirits moving musically,To a lute’s well-tuned law,Round about a throne where, sitting(Porphyrogene!)In state his glory well-befitting,The ruler of the realm was seen.
The Haunted Palace And all with pearl and ruby glowingWas the fair palace door,Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,And sparkling evermore,A troop of Echoes, whose sweet dutyWas but to sing,In voices of surpassing beauty,The wit and wisdom of their king.
The Haunted Palace But evil things, in robes of sorrow,Assailed the monarch’s high estate.(Ah, let us mourn!- for never morrowShall dawn upon him desolate!)And round about his home the gloryThat blushed and bloomed,Is but a dim-remembered storyOf the old time entombed.
The Haunted Palace And travellers, now, within that valley,Through the red-litten windows seeVast forms, that move, fantasticallyTo a discord melody,While, like a ghastly rapid river,Through the pale doorA hideous throng rush out foreverAnd laugh- but smile no more.
