

I'm not overly into poetry, but I get extreme enjoyment from this poem. (And honestly, Edgar Allen Poe's poe-try in general.)
I mean, "And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain" makes me stupidly happy when reading it. I want to just roll around in the words.
"Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—"
I feel that one in my SOUL.
I'm not overly into poetry, but I get extreme enjoyment from this poem. (And honestly, Edgar Allen Poe's poe-try in general.)
I mean, "And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain" makes me stupidly happy when reading it. I want to just roll around in the words.
"Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—"
I feel that one in my SOUL.