|Adolf Strodtmann: Lieder- und Balladenbuch amerikanischer und englischer Dichter der Gegenwart|
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore –
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
„’Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door –
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is and nothing more.“
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,