*To me the poem represents the transitory, ephemeral nature of time and our existence. When we meet a lover it's is like we pick up a handful of sand and as the years go par the sand slowly creeps through our fingers. No matter how hard ou how desperately toi try, toi cannot stop the cascading sand, until toi and your lover divisé, split and the last grain of sand has fallen. Then all toi have left is a memory. And when toi and your ex-lover pass on that memory is Lost in time: like a dream within a dream. The seconde half seems to be about our own mortality and the nature of our existence. Once the last grain of sand has fallen into the pitiless wave, you're gone forever.200 years into the future no one will remember you. Your life, your hopes and dreams, your accomplishments and triumphs, will be Lost in time like a dream within a dream.
*Life is vague, like a mist..our existence is fleeting. Whether brief ou longlived, nevertheless, it remains to be just a few grains of the golden sand, everyday slipping through our grasp..before we know it..it is almost/ ou is over..and all our pertinent and pressing important achivements, hopes and dreams and aspirations (whether toi are a great person, politician, a movie étoile, star ou a nobody) during our lifetime is now nothing plus than a memory, a myth ou legend, like a dream with a dream, soon it is pffft finito, gone done, forgotten.
*Life is vague, like a mist..our existence is fleeting. Whether brief ou longlived, nevertheless, it remains to be just a few grains of the golden sand, everyday slipping through our grasp..before we know it..it is almost/ ou is over..and all our pertinent and pressing important achivements, hopes and dreams and aspirations (whether toi are a great person, politician, a movie étoile, star ou a nobody) during our lifetime is now nothing plus than a memory, a myth ou legend, like a dream with a dream, soon it is pffft finito, gone done, forgotten.
The happiest jour -- the happiest hour
My sear'd and blighted cœur, coeur hath known,
The highest hope of pride and power,
I feel hath flown.
Of power! a dit 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 jour -- 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.
My sear'd and blighted cœur, coeur hath known,
The highest hope of pride and power,
I feel hath flown.
Of power! a dit 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 jour -- 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.
A dark unfathomed tide
Of interminable pride -
A mystery, and a dream,
Should my early life seem;
I say that dream was fraught
With a wild and waking thought
Of beings that have been,
Which my spirit hath not seen,
Had I let them pass me by,
With a dreaming eye!
Let none of earth inherit
That vision of my spirit;
Those thoughts I would control,
As a spell upon his soul:
For that bright hope at last
And that light time have past,
And my worldly rest hath gone
With a sigh as it passed on:
I care not though it perish
With a thought I then did cherish.
Of interminable pride -
A mystery, and a dream,
Should my early life seem;
I say that dream was fraught
With a wild and waking thought
Of beings that have been,
Which my spirit hath not seen,
Had I let them pass me by,
With a dreaming eye!
Let none of earth inherit
That vision of my spirit;
Those thoughts I would control,
As a spell upon his soul:
For that bright hope at last
And that light time have past,
And my worldly rest hath gone
With a sigh as it passed on:
I care not though it perish
With a thought I then did cherish.
Baltimore City is stopping funds for the Edgar Allen Poe House. This will greatly affect tourism. Funding is used to celebrate Poe's works, Birthday and keeps his final resting place(Westminster Church) open to the public. Many people from around the world travel to Baltimore just to visit the grave of Mr. Poe. He is a legend. This will not be fair to his fans ou to anyone else who come to admire the wonderful little cemetery and church.
People do not just go to this city for the Inner Harbor ou go to a sporting event. They come to see Poe. They want to see the accueil where he lived his last days and visit his grave. Did Baltimore city forget there is a football team named after one of his famous works?
This decision should be reconsidered if toi want to keep tourism booming in Baltimore City.
Please sign petition below;
link
People do not just go to this city for the Inner Harbor ou go to a sporting event. They come to see Poe. They want to see the accueil where he lived his last days and visit his grave. Did Baltimore city forget there is a football team named after one of his famous works?
This decision should be reconsidered if toi want to keep tourism booming in Baltimore City.
Please sign petition below;
link
