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-"Edgar Allan Poe." Poets.org. Academy of American Poets, 01 Aug. 2016. Web. 04 Apr. 2017.
-Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Raven." Poetry Foundation. Poetry Foundation, n.d. Web. 04 Apr. 2017.
-Poe, Edgar Allan. "A Dream Within a Dream." Poetry Foundation. Poetry Foundation, n.d. Web. 04 Apr. 2017.
-"Edgar Allan Poe." Biography.com. A&E Networks Television, 27 Oct. 2016. Web. 04 Apr. 2017.

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The poem "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe has the theme of there always being underlying grief and despair when you encounter loss. The structure of "The Raven" by having musically stylized language. The meaning of the poem is just darkness and despair of losing someone.Something that could have affected this type of theme is Poe's parents dying before he was 3. A quote states,"Poe’s father and mother, both professional actors, died before the poet was three years old". The death of Virginia, his 14 year old wife, could have also affected his choice of themes. A quote states," After Virginia’s death from tuberculosis in 1847, Poe’s lifelong struggle with depression and alcoholism worsened." Poe had been around the idea of death all his life which could affect his choice of theme for writing.

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A Dream Within a Dream is about Poe's existensial crisis. This is most clear with the lines, "All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream". This also shows the theme of the Philisophical concept of Skeptisism. He seems to believe that nothing is really real, we can't prove anything is actually real. The feelings that inspired this poem stem from his " lifelong struggle with depression" (poets.org).This also is what inspired many of the "gothic" themes form his other poems. The poem is structured in an way that each ryme is close together. There's no buffer lines between rymes. This makes the poem flow really well as it constantly has similar sounds.

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Literary Terms in "A Dream Within a Dream"

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Literary Terms in "A Dream Within a Dream"

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Metaphor- "That my days have been a dream,"
Alliteration: "All that we see or seem"
Imagery-"Grains of the golden sand"
Personification-"How few! yet how they creep" (referring to sand)
Repetition-"Is but a dream within a dream" (repeated at the middle and end)

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Symbolism-"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; (Poe37,38)" Symbolism is shown in "The Raven" and the raven is symbolized. The raven symbolizes death and despair.

Alliteration-"Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before(Poe 26)" The alliteration of the D helps the flow of the poem.

Repetition-“Nevermore(Poe 48)”The repetition of of nevermore emphasizes a negative feeling and also affects the flow of the poem.

Simile- "And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming(Poe 105)"The simile allows the reader to better understand the story.

Rhyme- "Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow(Poe 9)" The rhyme of marrow and borrow affects the flow of the poem.

Metaphor-"To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core(Poe 73)" The metaphor affects the flow of the poem and allows the reader to better envision the story.

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Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow —

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand —

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep — while I weep!

O God! Can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

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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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Born January 19th, 1809 in Boston Massachusetts, Edgar Allan Poe would eventually become one of the most famous poets of all time. At around the age of three, both his parents died and he became a foster child to John Allan. Being a wealthy man he sent Poe to great schools and eventually to the University of Virginia, where he was forced to leave after one year because John refused to pay off Poe's gambling debts. In 1827, he enlisted in the United States Army, where he published his first set of poems, "Tamerlane, and Other Poems". In 1829 he published another se called "Al Aaraaf, Tamerlane, and Minor Poems". Both had rather lackluster attention given, especially when compared to his later works. After service, he was enrolled in the United States Military
Academy. He again had to leave due to lack of funds, and moved to Baltimore with his aunt, Maria Clemm. In 1835 he became editor of the "Southern Literary Messenger in Richmond. in 1836 he married the fourteen year old Virginia. In the next ten years Poe would establish himself as a writer and poet, writing his most popular poems. In 1837, his wife died and his lifelong struggle with depression worsened and on October 3rd, 1839 he was found half conscious and died four days later from what seemed to be rabies.