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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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What is poetry?


Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
Not every citizen can become a poet. If almost every one of us, at different times, under the influence of certain reasons or trends, was engaged in writing his thoughts, then it is unlikely that the vast majority will be able to admit to themselves that they are a poet.
Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


There are poets whose work, without exaggeration, belongs to the treasures of human thought and rightly is a world heritage. In our electronic library you will find a wide variety of poetry.
Opening a new collection of poems, the reader thus discovers a new world, a new thought, a new form. Rereading the classics, a person receives a magnificent aesthetic pleasure, which doesn’t disappear with the slamming of the book, but accompanies him for a very long time like a Muse. And it isn’t at all necessary to be a poet in order for the Muse to visit you. It is enough to pick up a volume, inside of which is Poetry. Be with us on our website.

Read books online » Poetry » Alone by Edgar Allan Poe (top e book reader TXT) 📖

Book online «Alone by Edgar Allan Poe (top e book reader TXT) 📖». Author Edgar Allan Poe



From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were-I have not seen
As others saw-I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I lov'd, I lov'd alone.
Then-in my childhood-in the dawn
Of a most stormy life-was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold-
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by-
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

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Publication Date: 08-23-2011

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