And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door- Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;- This it is, and nothing more.
What we have now, shall never be again. The poets of the past sit in amazement of the wanna-be's of an era long gone.
Ramblings of the Clinically Depressed: Images of Darkness Vol. II
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What we have now, shall never be again. The poets of the past sit in amazement of the wanna-be's of an era long gone.
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