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For Annie by Edgar Allan Poe (published 1849)

Discussion in 'Quotes & Poems' started by creedito, Sep 1, 2015.

  1. creedito

    creedito Forum Veteran Established

    Thank Heaven! the crisis --
    The danger is past,
    And the lingering illness
    Is over at last --
    And the fever called "Living"
    Is conquered at last.
    Sadly, I know
    I am shorn of my strength,
    And no muscle I move
    As I lie at full length --
    But no matter! -- I feel
    I am better at length.
    And I rest so composedly,
    Now, in my bed,
    That any beholder
    Might fancy me dead --
    Might start at beholding me,
    Thinking me dead.
    The moaning and groaning,
    The sighing and sobbing,
    Are quieted now,
    With that horrible throbbing
    At heart: -- ah, that horrible,
    Horrible throbbing!
    The sickness -- the nausea --
    The pitiless pain --
    Have ceased, with the fever
    That maddened my brain --
    With the fever called "Living"
    That burned in my brain.
    And oh! of all tortures
    That torture the worst
    Has abated -- the terrible
    Torture of thirst
    For the naphthaline river
    Of Passion accurst: --
    I have drank of a water
    That quenches all thirst: --
    Of a water that flows,
    With a lullaby sound,
    From a spring but a very few
    Feet under ground --
    From a cavern not very far
    Down under ground.
    And ah! let it never
    Be foolishly said
    That my room it is gloomy
    And narrow my bed;
    For man never slept
    In a different bed --
    And, to sleep, you must slumber
    In just such a bed.
    My tantalized spirit
    Here blandly reposes,
    Forgetting, or never
    Regretting its roses --
    Its old agitations
    Of myrtles and roses:
    For now, while so quietly
    Lying, it fancies
    A holier odor
    About it, of pansies --
    A rosemary odor,
    Commingled with pansies --
    With rue and the beautiful
    Puritan pansies.
    And so it lies happily,
    Bathing in many
    A dream of the truth
    And the beauty of Annie --
    Drowned in a bath
    Of the tresses of Annie.
    She tenderly kissed me,
    She fondly caressed,
    And then I fell gently
    To sleep on her *phcorner* --
    Deeply to sleep
    From the heaven of her *phcorner*.
    When the light was extinguished,
    She covered me warm,
    And she prayed to the angels
    To keep me from harm --
    To the queen of the angels
    To shield me from harm.
    And I lie so composedly,
    Now in my bed,
    (Knowing her love)
    That you fancy me dead --
    And I rest so contentedly,
    Now in my bed,
    (With her love at my *phcorner*)
    That you fancy me dead --
    That you shudder to look at me,
    Thinking me dead: --
    But my heart it is brighter
    Than all of the many
    Stars in the sky,
    For it sparkles with Annie --
    It glows with the light
    Of the love of my Annie --
    With the thought of the light
    Of the eyes of my Annie.
     
  2. thanks for posting :)
     
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