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Topic: Welcome to Night Thoughts, The Writings of Daniel Kemp
AnneMarie
Lost Soul


Posts: 8
Joined: Nov. 2010
Posted: Feb. 22 2016,3:33 pm

For Annie
BY EDGAR ALLAN POE
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 breast—
Deeply to sleep
     From the heaven of her breast.

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 breast).
     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.

For Me :rose:

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