22 lines
851 B
Plaintext
22 lines
851 B
Plaintext
1848
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AN ENIGMA
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by Edgar Allan Poe
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"Seldom we find," says Solomon Don Dunce,
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"Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet.
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Through all the flimsy things we see at once
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As easily as through a Naples bonnet-
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Trash of all trash!- how can a lady don it?
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Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff-
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Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff
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Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it."
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And, veritably, Sol is right enough.
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The general tuckermanities are arrant
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Bubbles- ephemeral and so transparent-
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But this is, now- you may depend upon it-
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Stable, opaque, immortal- all by dint
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Of the dear names that he concealed within 't.
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-THE END-
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.
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