2007-09-24

Annabel Lee

Edgar Allan Poe

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 winged seraphs of heaven
coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came,
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me -
Yes! - that was the reason
(as all men know,
in this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out the cloud by night,
chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

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,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever disever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: -

For the moon never came, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee,
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:
And so, all the night tide I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride
In the sepulcher there by the sea -
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Roses

Pierre Ronsard

I send you here a wreath of blossoms blown,
And woven flowers at sunset gathered.
Another dawn had seen them revived; ruined,
and shed loose leaves upon the grass, at random strewn.
By this, their sure example, be it known
That all your beauties, now in perfect flower,
Shall fade as these, and wither in an hour,
Flower-like and brief of days, as the flowers sown.
Ah, time is flying, lady - time is flying;
Nay, 'tis not time that flies but we that go,
Who in short space shall be in churchyard lying,
And of our loving parley none shall know,
Nor any man consider what we were:
Be therefore kind, my love, whilst thou art fair.