Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,..."
The Preface: It all began with a "tear-out" from an Anthropologie catalog from 4 years ago. Having pinned the page to my wall and the premade crow staring at me for years, the idea finally rose to the surface.
"...Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,..."
It hit me...I had the old jewels, vintage buttons, playing cards, books, a moment of time.... and the idea of a story. It is a magical thing when the idea falls into place. Yes it took 4 years, but it finally fell into place -- Poe, the Crow & the Tale.
The Crow had lived on the castle grounds for many years. He admired the Queen of Spades for many years. As time passed, he fell in love with her. He became obsessed with her. Every waking moment was consumed by thoughts of her...her kindness & her beauty.
"...Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'..."
In his quest for the Queen, he stole buttons & gems from her chamber. He would caw & crow with all his heart outside her window at dusk. Her eyes would pause for a moment on him & it would fill his heart. The joy & the sorrow -- unrequited love.
"...From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore- For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore- Nameless here for evermore..."
As he acquired possessions that belonged to her, he began to admire himself. It made him stronger & bolder--he started to believe that she would be his. He began to loathe the King of Spades & the Prince.
"...Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
His pain turned to rage. In his mind, he believed he must remove the King to have the Queen. On the evening of the Autumn equinox he put his plan into motion. At dusk he called the Queen to the garden in a song that filled his soul. She stared at him with a sorrowful heart. He had moved her.
"...Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your
forgiveness I implore;..."
With blood in his eyes, he flew into the parlor where the King & Prince sat reading. He flew into the candelabra, throwing flames into the drapes, engulfing the entire room. The Queen had seen what happened from the garden. Throwing herself upon the garden path, she wept. The Crow flew above & tried to comfort her with a whisper of a caw.
"...But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!..."
The echo of the caw drained her heart of all happiness. The desire to live no longer existed for her. Her heart beat no more. The Crow, sitting on the shoulder of a garden angel, wept & cawed no more.
"...And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;..."
For the entire poem..http://www.heise.de/ix/raven/Literature/Lore/TheRaven.html
To get your hands on these go to Plano Antique Mall
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