May

                      Annabelle 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 kinsman 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 of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love 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 dissever my 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 the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

-

I recited this poem at a school event when I was in middle school. The day my English teacher  told me that she wanted me to do it, I cried on my way home. I really didn't want to do it. But my aunt really wanted me to, she loved this poem so dearly (of course she did, all the hopeless and miserable romantics do), and she came with me and my mom when we picked out a light pink gown for me to wear (light pink, what was I thinking!). I was haunted by this memory when I was at firestone, drinking a pepsi, and reading Harper's Bazaar. There was a piece by Annabelle Neilson on her friendship with Alexander McQueen. Annabelle Lee was the last poem she read to him. Annabelle Lee was the only poem I ever read to my aunt. I got very sad and cried on my way home.