The Happiest Day, the happiest hour
The happiest day- the happiest hour
My sear’d and blighted heart hath known,
The highest hope of pride and power,
I feel hath flown.
Of power! said I? yes! such I ween;
But they have vanish’d long, alas!
The visions of my youth have been-
But let them pass.
And, pride, what have I now with thee?
Another brow may even inherit
The venom thou hast pour’d on me
Be still, my spirit!
The happiest day- the happiest hour
Mine eyes shall see- have ever seen,
The brightest glance of pride and power,
I feel- have been:
But were that hope of pride and power
Now offer’d with the pain
Even then I felt- that brightest hour
I would not live again:
For on its wing was dark alloy,
And, as it flutter’d- fell
An essence- powerful to destroy
A soul that knew it well.
Edgar Allan Poe
Clever Edgar.
In Edgar Allan Poe’s poem, A Valentine, it is actually a riddle Poe made to reveal to his secret lover.
For her these lines are penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Loeda,
Shall find her own sweet name that, nestling, lies
Upon this page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly this rhyme, which holds a treasure
Divine — a talisman — an amulet
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure;
The words — the letters themselves. Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor.
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely understand the plot.
Enwritten upon this page whereon are peering
Such eager eyes, there lies, I say, perdu,
A well-known name, oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets; as the name is a poet’s, too.
Its letters, although naturally lying —
Like the knight Pinto (Mendez Ferdinando) —
Still form a synonym for truth. Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle though you do the best you can do.
There are twenty lines in the poem, to find the riddle, take the first letter of the first line, then take the second letter of the second line, then the third letter of the third line, and so on. If you do it right it should reveal a name…
For her these lines are penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Loeda,
Shall find her own sweet name that, nestling, lies
Upon this page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly this rhyme, which holds a treasure
Divine — a talisman — an amulet
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure;
The words — the letters themselves. Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor.
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely understand the plot.
Enwritten upon this page whereon are peering
Such eager eyes, there lies, I say, perdu,
A well-known name, oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets; as the name is a poet’s, too.
Its letters, although naturally lying —
Like the knight Pinto (Mendez Ferdinando) —
Still form a synonym for truth. Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle though you do the best you can do.
This spells out the name “Frances Sargent Osgood” Frances Osgood was a poetess whom e secretly admired. Crazy clever E.A.P you never cease to amaze :D
Tutte le fonti da cui può derivare un vantaggio legittimo.
Il potere di analisi non deve essere confuso con l’ingegnosità pura e semplice: poiché mentre l’analista è necessariamente ingegnoso, l’uomo ingegnoso è spesso notevolmente sprovvisto di facoltà analitiche. Tra l’ingegnosità e la facoltà analitica esiste una differenza assai maggiore, invero, che non tra la fantasia e l’immaginazione, benché di un carattere strettamente analogo: si noterà, infatti, che gli ingegnosi sono sempre fantasiosi, ma che i veramente immaginativi non sono mai altro che analisti.
