The Fall of the House of Usher

And then I had a vision Ah Edgar, ah, Edgar, my dear friend Edgar It's been a long time, Roderick I've ridden many miles It's been a dull and soundless day for autumn The leaves have lost their autumn glow And the clouds seem oppressive with their drifting finery I know, my friend Though I own so much of this land I find, the country insufferable I deal only in half pleasures Speaking of half pleasures Would you care for a tincture of opium? Nothing would please me more than to smoke with an old friend I've experienced the hideous dropping of the veil The bitter lapse into common life Unredeemed dreariness of thought I have an iciness, a sickening of the heart It's true you don't look well, Roderick But I am your friend, no matter the occasion or position of the stars I'm glad you wrote me, but I must admit to concern I cannot contain my heart Edgar, I look to you for solace For relief from myself What I have is constitutional A family evil, a nervous affection that must surely pass But I do have this morbid acuteness of senses I can eat only the most insipid food Clothes only of the lightest texture The odor of flowers I find oppressive My eyes cannot bear even the faintest light (ah, ah, ah, ah) Did you hear that? I hear, I am listening, go on I shall perish I will perish in this deplorable folly I dread the future not the events, the results The most trivial event causes the greatest agitation of the soul I do not fear danger except in its absolute effect, terror I find I must inevitably abandon life and reason together in my struggles with the demon fear Perhaps you'll think me superstitious But the physique of this place It hovers about me like a great body Some diseased outer shell Some decaying finite skin encasing my morale You mentioned your sister was ill My beloved sister, my sole companion Has had a long continuing illness, whose inevitable conclusion seems forsworn This will leave me the last of the ancient race of Ushers She looks so much like you I love her in a nameless way More than I love myself Her demise will leave me hopelessly confined to memories And realities of a future so barren as to be stultifying Oh, what of physicians? Ah, they are baffled Until today she refused bed rest Wanting to be present in your honor But finally she succumbed to the prostrating power of the destroyer You will probably see her no more Sound and music take us to the twin curves of experience Like brother and sister intertwined, they relieve themselves of bodily contact And dance in a pagan revelry I have soiled myself with my designs I am ashamed of my brain The enemy is me, and the executioner terror Music is a reflection of our inner self Unfiltered agony touches the wayward string The wayward brain confuses itself with the self-perceived future And turns inward with loathing and terror Either by design or thought, we are doomed to know our own end I've written a lyric May I hear it? It is called, the haunted palace In the greenest of our valleys by good angels tenanted, once a fair and stately palace Snow-white palace, reared its head Banners yellow, glorious, golden, on its roof did float and flow This, all this was in the olden time long ago And every gentle air that dallied along the rampart plumed and pallid A winged odor went away All wanderers in that happy valley, through two luminous windows saw spirits moving musically The sovereign of the realm serene A troop of echoes whose sweet duty was but to sing in voices of surpassing beauty The wit and wisdom of their king But evil things in robes of sorrow Assailed the monarch's high estate, and round about his home the glory, is but a dim-remembered story Vast forms that move fantastically to a discordant melody While, like a ghastly river, a hideous throng rush out forever, and laugh But smile no more, nevermore It's cold in here I tell you minerals are sentient things The gradual yet certain condensation of an atmosphere Of their own about the waters and the walls proves this Thus the silent yet importunate and terrible influence, which for centuries has molded my family And now me Excuse me She is gone, out, sad light Roderick has no life I shall preserve her corpse for a fortnight But Roderick I shall place it in a vault facing the lake I do not wish to answer to the medical men Nor place her in the exposed burial plot of my family We shall inter her at the proper date When I am more fully of a right mind Her malady was unusual Please do not question me on this I cannot question you Then help me now Ah, one would think you twins We are, we have always been sympathetic to each other Have you seen this? It is her It is a whirlwind You should not, you must not behold this Roderick, these appearances which bewilder you are mere electrical phenomena not uncommon Or perhaps they have their rank origins in the marshy gases of the lake Please, let's close this casement and I will read and you will listen And together we will pass this terrible night together What's that? What is that? Don't you hear that? Not hear it, yes, I hear it and have heard it many minutes have I heard it Oh, pity me miserable wretch I dared not Oh, no I dared not speak We have put her living in the tomb I have heard feeble movements in the coffin I thought I heard I dared not speak Oh, God I have heard footsteps Do you not hear them? Attention Do I not distinguish that heavy and horrible beating of her heart? Madman Madman I tell you she now stands without the door Ah, ah, ah, ahh, ah, ah, ah, ah