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eldom we find," says Solomon Don Dunce,
         "Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet.
     Through all the flimsy things we see at once
         As easily as through a Naples bonnet��
         Trash of all trash!��how can a lady don it?

     Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff-
     Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff
         Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it."
     And, veritably, Sol is right enough.

     The general tuckermanities are arrant
     Bubbles��ephemeral and so transparent��
         But this is, now,��you may depend upon it��
     Stable, opaque, immortal��all by dint
     Of the dear names that lie concealed within 't.

edgar allan poe alone poem

������AN ENIGMA��https://kraftgear.com/syy/yywh/201612/53232.html
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