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EPITAPH ON THE COUNTESS OF PEM
UNDERNEATH this sable hearse
Who is the baby, that doth lie
Of thy blue eye?
In the crystal deep.
What sound is that, so soft, so clear,
Bursting, we hear?
Thomas Lovell Beddoes.
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
By the name of Annabel Lee;
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child, and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
I and my Annabel Lee ;
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me;
In this kingdom by the sea)
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we,
far wiser than we;
Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever
soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
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
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 her sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Edgar Allan Poe.
THE SHEPHERD OF KING ADMETUS
THERE came a youth upon the earth,
Some thousand years ago,
Upon an empty tortoise-shell
He stretched some chords, and drew
Then King Admetus, one who had
Pure taste by right divine,
And so, well pleased with being soothed
Into a sweet half-sleep, Three times his kingly beard he smoothed, And made him viceroy o'er his sheep.
His words were simple words enough,
And yet he used them so,
Men called him but a shiftless youth,
In whom no good they saw ;
They knew not how he learned at all,
For idly, hour by hour,
It seemed the loveliness of things
Did teach him all their use, For, in mere weeds, and stones, and springs, He found a healing power profuse.
Men granted that his speech was wise,
But, when a glance they caught
Of his slim grace and woman's eyes,
Yet after he was dead and gone,
And e'en his memory dim, Earth seemed more sweet to live
upon, More full of love, because of him.
And day by day more holy grew
Each spot where he had trod,
James Russell Lowell.
ANNIE and Rhoda, sisters twain,
The rush of wind, the ramp and roar
Annie rose up in her bed-gown white,
“Hush, and hearken!” she cried in fear, “Hearest thou nothing, sister dear?”
“I hear the sea, and the plash of rain, And roar of the northeast hurricane.