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"Elorado" is a poem written by American writer, Edgar Allan Poe. It's theme displays determination and death in a cooperative and heroic conquest. "But he grew old This knight so bold—" (Poe, Stanza 2, Lines 1-2). These lines from the poem help identify the minimalistic and simple structure  of the poem, which consists of a knight searching for Eldorado for the longest time, until his strength runs out, and until he is told that he must die in order to find Eldorado. The literal meaning of "Eldorado" is: The golden/gilded one. This can refer to the knight as being the chosen or the special one to discover "Eldorado." "He met a pilgrim shadow—

‘Shadow,’ said he,

‘Where can it be—

This land of Eldorado?’" (Poe, Stanza 3, Lines 3-6). This backs up the superstitious and religious concepts that this "prophet" might be guiding the knight to a land neverknown  before, a land where only souls travel to. Historically, the poem might refer to a city of gold hidden deep in the lands of South America. This city, many have tried to find, but have failed.

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"The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe explores the themes of grief, depression, negativity, and denial. "Darkness and nothing more" (Poe, Stanza 4, Line 11). This line from the poem backs up the idea that Poe revolves himself around a world of misery and regret as he spends his night in a cabin, grieving his dear Lenore. He sees, and feels, darkness, emptiness, and nothing else. "The Raven" has a structure which is quite simple, yet very detailed. The structure basically consists of a lover lamenting the loss of his beloved Lenore; a black raven later arrives to the lover's house, reinstating his grief and pain with the words "Nevermore." "For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—" (Poe, Stanza 2, Lines 9-10). These lines greatly depict the meaning of this poem. Poe Includes religion and folk to describe the suffering this loved is going through. Although it is hurting him greatly, the lover cannot help but keep instating the pain of losing Lenore. The poem was published in January of 1845 and it is noted for its musicality, stylized language, and supernatural atmosphere. It is very convincing that Poe is referring to himself as the lover, and describing his own grief after losing a very dear person to him.

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Assonance: the repetition of vowel sounds in stressed syllables containing dissimilar consonant sounds.
Ex: "rustling of each purple curtain, Thrilled me—filled me" (Poe, Stanza 3, Lines 1-3)
Explanation: Poe uses the words "Thrill" and "Fill" in assonance as if to express the feeling that he is being fulfilled and oberwhelmed by happiness, which is ironically rare in this poem.

Alliteration: the repetition of initial consonant sounds of several words in a group. It is often used in poetry to to emphasize and to link words as well as to create pleasing, musical sounds.
Ex: "While I pondered weak and weary" (Poe, Stanza 1, Lines 1-2
Explanation: Poe pretty much does the opposite of assonance in this line. He uses the initial sound, "wea-", to express his exhaustion and unwillingness to continue; he presents himself as beat.

Similie: a figure of speech tht compares two things that are basically unlike yet have something in common with the use of "like" or "as." Whereas a metaphor only implies a comparison, a similie states it. Similie intensify emotional response, stimulate vibrant images, provide imaginative delight and concentrate the expressions of ideas.
Ex: "Suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping" (Poe, Stanza 1, Lines 5-7)
Explanation: Poe uses a rather logical similie that one can understand. He associates the tapping with the sound one makes when rapping. It is a very subtle yet effective way to add perspective and detail to the grave poem.

Onomatopoeia: use of words whose sounds echo their meanings, such as buzz, whisper, gargle and murmur.
Ex: "...and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door" (Poe, Stanza 4, Lines 7-8)
Explanation: "Tapping" definitely echos its own meaning, and Poe used this onomatopoeia to describe the sounds he was utterly hearing in his misery. One is not for certain if these sounds are just in his head or actually real, but Poe is convince that they came from the raven.

Personification: is when a nonhuman object is given human characteristics.
Ex: "[T]he Raven, sitting lonely [...] spoke only, That one word, as if his soul [...] he did outpour." (Poe, Stanza 10, Lines 1-4)
Explanation: In this excerpt from the poem, Poe gives the raven the ability to speak in order for it to explain and pour out its feelings to the already depressed and worn out Poe. Poe assimilates the "words" from this bird to his own suffering and finds comfort.

Metaphor: is a comparison between two u like things without using "like" or "as." "Time's winged chariot" is a metaphor in which the swift passage of time is compared to a speeding chariot. An extended metaphor is one that is developed at length and involves several points of comparison. A mixed metaphor occurs when two are jumbled together (thorns and rain as in "the thorns of life rained down on him." A dead metaphor is one that is overused.
Ex: "And each separate dying ember wrought it's ghost upon the floor" (Poe, Stanza 2, Lines 3-4)
Explanation: Clearly, embers do not posses a ghost that haunts after its death, but Poe does a great job in describing things and objects that may seem insignificant; he literally brings those things to life and to human interaction at times.

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Source 5 | Author Background and Influences

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Source 5 | Author Background and Influences

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Poe Style Sheet. N.p., n.d. Web. 10 Apr. 2017.

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MPT: Knowing Poe: Poe the Writer: Annotated Poe. N.p., n.d. Web. 10 Apr. 2017.

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Poe's Biography | Edgar Allan Poe Museum. N.p., n.d. Web. 10 Apr. 2017.

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Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Raven." Poetry Foundation. Poetry Foundation, n.d. Web. 10 Apr. 2017.

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Poe, Edgar Allan. "Eldorado." Poetry Foundation. Poetry Foundation, n.d. Web. 10 Apr. 2017.

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Gaily bedight,

A gallant knight,

In sunshine and in shadow,

Had journeyed long,

Singing a song,

In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old—

This knight so bold—

And o’er his heart a shadow—

Fell as he found

No spot of ground

That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength

Failed him at length,

He met a pilgrim shadow—

‘Shadow,’ said he,

‘Where can it be—

This land of Eldorado?’

‘Over the Mountains

Of the Moon,

Down the Valley of the Shadow,

Ride, boldly ride,’

The shade replied,—

‘If you seek for Eldorado!’

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Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more.”

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

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

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;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

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

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

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On January 19, 1809, Edgar Allen Poe was born in Boston, Massachusetts. Poe's father and mother, eachskilled actors, died before the writer was 3 years old, which led to John and Frances Allan raising him as a foster kid in Richmond, Virginia. John Allan, a prosperous tobacco bourgeois, sent Poe to the most effective boarding schools and later to the University of Virginia, where Poe prospered academically. Just before one year of faculty, however, Poe was forced to cease his studies because John Allan refused to pay Poe's gambling debts.

Poe camein short to Richmond, however his relationship with John Allan withered away. In 1827, he migrated to Boston and enlisted with the United States Army. His initialassortment of poems, Tamerlane, and other poems, was published that year. In 1829, he revealed a second assortment entitled Al Aaraaf, Tamerlane, and Minor Poems. Neither volume received vital or public attention. Following his Army service, Edgar Allen Poe was admitted to the United States Military Academy, however he was once more forced to resign for lack of monetary support. He then moved into the home of his aunt Maria Clemm and her daughter Virginia in Baltimore, Maryland.

Poe began to sell short stories to magazines. In 1835, he became the editor of the Southern Literary Messenger in Richmond, where he moved with his aunt and cousin Virginia. In 1836, he married Virginia, who was fourteen years of age at the time. Over the following decade, Edgar Allen Poe would edit variety of literary journals, including the Burton's Gentleman's Magazine and Graham's Magazine in Philadelphia and the Broadway Journal in New York City. It had beenthroughout these years that he established himself as a poet, a brief story author, and an editor. He revealeda number of his best-known stories and poems, Including "The Fall of the House of Usher," "The Tell-Tale Heart," "The Murders within the Rue building," and "The Raven." After his wife's death from tuberculosis in 1847, Poe's womb-to-tomb struggle with depression and alcoholism worsened. He camein short to Richmond in 1849 then pursued an editing job in Philadelphia. For unknown reasons, he stopped in Baltimore. On October3, 1849, he was found in a state of semi-consciousness. Edgar Allen Poe died four days later of "acute congestion of the brain." Proof by medical practitioners who reopened the case has shown that Edgar Allen Poecouldhavebeen littered with rabies.

Poe's work as an editor, a poet, and a critic had a profound impact on American and international literature. His stories mark him as one of the originators of both horror and detective fiction. Several anthologies refer to him as the "architect" of the modern short story. He was conjointly one of the primary critics to focus totally on the impactof favor and structure in a literary work; intrinsically, he has been seen as a forerunner to the "art for art's sake" movement. French Symbolists such as Mallarmé and Rimbaud claimed him as a literary precursor. Charles Pierre Baudelaire spent nearly fourteen years translating Edgar Allen Poe into French. Today, Edgar Allen Poe is remembered as one of the primaryAmerican writers to become a significant figure in world literature.

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By: Nick Brahms