She lived unknown, and few could know But she is in her grave, and, oh! "BUT SHE IS IN HER GRAVE, AND, OH! THE DIFFERENCE TO ME!" ANNABEL LEE. It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived, whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love, and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee— With a love that the wingèd seraphs of heaven And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling So that her high-born kinsman came To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Yes! that was the reason (as all men know, That the wind came out of the cloud by night, But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee, And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side EDGAR ALLAN POE. ADIEU. LET time and chance combine, combine, Let time and chance combine; The faintest hope from heaven above, That love of yours was mine, My dear, That love of yours was mine. The past is fled and gone, and gone, If nought but pain to me remain, I'll fare in memory on. My dear, The saddest tears must fall, must fall, In weal or woe, in this world below, I love you ever and all, I love you ever and all. My dear A long road full of pain, of pain, A long road full of pain; One soul, one heart, sworn ne'er to part, We ne'er can meet again, We ne'er can meet again. My dear, Hard fate will not allow, allow, Hard fate will not allow; We blessed were as the angels are,— Adieu forever, now, My dear, Adieu forever, now. THOMAS CARLYLE. EVELYN HOPE. BEAUTIFUL Evelyn Hope is dead! Sit and watch by her side an hour. That is her book-shelf, this her bed ; She pluck'd that piece of geranium-flower, Beginning to die, too, in the glass. Little has yet been changed, I think; The shutters are shut-no light may pass, Save two long rays thro' the hinges' chink. Sixteen years old when she died! Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name.. And now was quiet, now astir— Is it too late, then, Evelyn Hope? What! your soul was pure and true; The good stars met in your horoscope, Made you of spirit, fire, and dew; And just because I was thrice as old, And our paths in the world diverged so wide, Each was naught to each, must I be told? We were fellow-mortals-naught beside? No, indeed! for God above Is great to grant, as mighty to make, And creates the love to reward the love; I claim you still, for my own love's sake! Delay'd, it may be, for more lives yet, Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few; |