[lc] the fall of the house of usher
by edgar allan poe shaking off what must have been a dream, i scanned more narrowly the real aspect of the building. its principal feature seemed to be that of an excessive antiquity. the discoloration of ages had been great. minute fungi overspread the whole exterior, hanging in a fine tangled web-work from the eaves. yet all this was apart from any extraordinary dilapidation. no portion of the masonry had fallen; and there appeared to be a wild inconsistency between its still perfect adaptation of parts, and the crumbling condition of the individual stones. in this there was much that reminded me of the specious totality of old wood-work which has rotted for long years in some neglected vault, with no disturbance from the breath of the external air. beyond this indication of extensive decay, however, the fabric gave little token of instability. perhaps the eye of a scrutinizing observer might have discovered a barely perceptible fissure, which, extending from the roof of the building in front, made its way down the wall in a zigzag direction, until it became lost in the sullen waters of the tarn. roderick usher's poem
by edgar allan poe
* in the greenest of our valleys,
* by good angels tenanted,
* once a fair and stately palace—
* radiant palace—reared its head.
* in the monarch thought's dominion—
* it stood there!
* never seraph spread a pinion
* over fabric half so fair.
*
* 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,
* in that sweet day,
* along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
* a winged odor went away.

* and, round about his home, the glory
* that blushed and bloomed
* is but a dim-remembered story
* of the old time entombed.
*
* and travellers now within that valley,
* through the red-litten windows see
* vast forms that move fantastically
* to a discordant melody;
* while, like a rapid ghastly river,
* through the pale door,
* a hideous throng rush out forever,
* and laugh—but smile no more.

what do these two pieces have in common?

a) they are both about nice places becoming unpleasant.
b) they are both about the politics of the time.
c) they are both about the importance of architecture.
d) they are both based on a famous play.