Lingua-Stem

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examples/collected_works_poe.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

Man. Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or
a silly action, for no other reason than because he knows he should
not? Have we not a perpetual inclination, in the teeth of our best
judgment, to violate that which is _Law_, merely because we
understand it to be such? This spirit of perverseness, I say, came to
my final overthrow. It was this unfathomable longing of the soul _to
vex itself_ - to offer violence to its own nature - to do wrong for
the wrong's sake only - that urged me to continue and finally to
consummate the injury I had inflicted upon the unoffending brute. One
morning, in cool blood, I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it
to the limb of a tree; - hung it with the tears streaming from my
eyes, and with the bitterest remorse at my heart; - hung it _because_
I knew that it had loved me, and _because_ I felt it had given me no
reason of offence; - hung it _because_ I knew that in so doing I was
committing a sin - a deadly sin that would so jeopardize my immortal
soul as to place it - if such a thing wore possible - even beyond the
reach of the infinite mercy of the Most Merciful and Most Terrible
God.

    On the night of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was
aroused from sleep by the cry of fire. The curtains of my bed were in

examples/collected_works_poe.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

mechanically to the wall. To his extreme horror and astonishment, the
head of the gigantic steed had, in the meantime, altered its
position. The neck of the animal, before arched, as if in compassion,
over the prostrate body of its lord, was now extended, at full
length, in the direction of the Baron. The eyes, before invisible,
now wore an energetic and human expression, while they gleamed with a
fiery and unusual red; and the distended lips of the apparently
enraged horse left in full view his gigantic and disgusting teeth.

    Stupified with terror, the young nobleman tottered to the door.
As he threw it open, a flash of red light, streaming far into the
chamber, flung his shadow with a clear outline against the quivering
tapestry, and he shuddered to perceive that shadow - as he staggered
awhile upon the threshold - assuming the exact position, and
precisely filling up the contour, of the relentless and triumphant
murderer of the Saracen Berlifitzing.

    To lighten the depression of his spirits, the Baron hurried into
the open air. At the principal gate of the palace he encountered
three equerries. With much difficulty, and at the imminent peril of
their lives, they were restraining the convulsive plunges of a

examples/collected_works_poe.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

save a solitary shriek, escaped from his lacerated lips, which were
bitten through and through in the intensity of terror. One instant,
and the clattering of hoofs resounded sharply and shrilly above the
roaring of the flames and the shrieking of the winds - another, and,
clearing at a single plunge the gate-way and the moat, the steed
bounded far up the tottering staircases of the palace, and, with its
rider, disappeared amid the whirlwind of chaotic fire.

    The fury of the tempest immediately died away, and a dead calm
sullenly succeeded. A white flame still enveloped the building like a
shroud, and, streaming far away into the quiet atmosphere, shot forth
a glare of preternatural light; while a cloud of smoke settled
heavily over the battlements in the distinct colossal figure of - _a
horse_.



~~~ End of Text ~~~

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examples/collected_works_poe.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

thought of the physical power of words? Is not every word an impulse
on the air?

OINOS. But why, Agathos, do you weep -- and why, oh why do your wings
droop as we hover above this fair star -- which is the greenest and
yet most terrible of all we have encountered in our flight? Its
brilliant flowers look like a fairy dream -- but its fierce volcanoes
like the passions of a turbulent heart.

AGATHOS. They are! -- they are! This wild star -- it is now three
centuries since, with clasped hands, and with streaming eyes, at the
feet of my beloved -- I spoke it -- with a few passionate sentences
-- into birth. Its brilliant flowers are the dearest of all
unfulfilled dreams, and its raging volcanoes are the passions of the
most turbulent and unhallowed of hearts.

~~~ End of Text ~~~

======

THE COLLOQUY OF MONOS AND UNA

examples/collected_works_poe.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
                        Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
                         Shall be lifted -- nevermore!

~~~ End of Text ~~~

Published 1845.

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            THE BELLS.

examples/voc.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

straws
stray
strayed
straying
streak
streaked
streaks
stream
streamed
streamer
streaming
streamlet
streamlets
streams
street
streetdoor
streets
strength
strengthen
strengthened
strengthening