埃德加·爱伦·坡/EdgarAllanPoe
Duringthewholeofadull, dark, andsoundlessdayintheautumnoftheyear, whenthecloudshunguppressivelylowintheheavens, Ihadbeenpassingalone, onhorseback, throughasingularlydrearytractofcountry; andatlengthfoundmyself, astheshadesoftheeveningdrewon, , withthefirstglimpseofthebuilding, ; forthefeelingwasunrelievedbyanyofthathalf-pleasurable, becausepoetic, sentimentwithwhichthemindusuallyreceiveseventhesternestnaturalimagesofthedesolateorterrible, Ilookeduponthescenebeforemeuponthemerehouse, andthesimplelandscapefeaturesofthedomain, uponthebleakwalls, uponthevacanteyelikewindows, uponafewrandysedges, anduponafewwhitetrunksofdecayedtrees—withanutterdepressionofsoulwhichIcancomparetonoearthlysensationmoreproperlythantotheafterdreamofthereveleruponopium; thebitterlapseintoeverydaylife, , asinking, asickeningoftheheart, ? Itwasamysteryallinsoluble; , thatwhile, beyonddoubt, therearecombinationsofverysimplenaturalobjectswhichhavethepowerofthusaffectingus, stilltheanalysisofthispowerliesamongconsiderationsbeyondourdepth.
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