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UNDERNEATH this sable hearse
Lies the subject of all verse,
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother ;
Death! ere thou hast slain another,
Learned and fair and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee.

Ben Jonson.


Who is the baby, that doth lie
Beneath the silken canopy

Of thy blue eye?
It is young Sorrow, laid asleep

In the crystal deep.
Let us sing his lullaby,
Heigho! a sob and a sigh.

What sound is that, so soft, so clear,
Harmonious as a bubbled tear

Bursting, we hear?
It is young Sorrow, slumber breaking,

Suddenly waking
Let us sing his lullaby,
Heigho! a sob and a sigh.

Thomas Lovell Beddoes.


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.

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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 high-born kinsmen came
And bore her

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

from me,

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 of 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,

far wiser than we;
And neither the angels in heaven above,

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.

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THERE came a youth upon the earth,

Some thousand years ago,
Whose slender hands were nothing worth,
Whether to plough, or reap, or sow.

Upon an empty tortoise-shell

He stretched some chords, and drew
Music that made men's bosoms swell
Fearless, or brimmed their eyes with dew.

Then King Admetus, one who had

Pure taste by right divine,
Decreed his singing not too bad
To hear between the cups of wine :

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,
That what in other months was rough
In his seemed musical and low.


Men called him but a shiftless youth,

In whom no good they saw ;
And yet, unwittingly, in truth,
They made his careless words their law.

They knew not how he learned at all,

For idly, hour by hour,
He sat and watched the dead leaves fall,
Or mused upon a common flower.

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,
They laughed, and called him good-for-nought.

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,
Till after-poets only knew
Their first-born brother as a god.

James Russell Lowell.


ANNIE and Rhoda, sisters twain,
Woke in the night to the sound of rain,

The rush of wind, the ramp and roar
Of great waves climbing a rocky shore.

Annie rose up in her bed-gown white,
And looked out into the storm and night.

“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.

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