It was many and many a año ago,
In a kingdom por the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom tu may know
por the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to amor and be loved por me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom por the sea;
But we loved with a amor that was más than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a amor that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom por 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 sepulchre
In this kingdom por 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 por the sea)
That the wind came out of the nube por night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our amor it was stronger por far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the ángeles 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 por the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there por the sea,
In her tomb por the sounding sea.
In a kingdom por the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom tu may know
por the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to amor and be loved por me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom por the sea;
But we loved with a amor that was más than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a amor that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom por 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 sepulchre
In this kingdom por 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 por the sea)
That the wind came out of the nube por night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our amor it was stronger por far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the ángeles 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 por the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there por the sea,
In her tomb por the sounding sea.
So sweet the hour, so calm the time,
I feel it más than half a crime,
When Nature sleeps and stars are mute,
To mar the silence ev'n with lute.
At rest on ocean's brilliant dyes
An image of Elysium lies:
Seven Pleiades entranced in Heaven,
Form in the deep another seven:
Endymion nodding from above
Sees in the sea a segundo love.
Within the valleys dim and brown,
And on the spectral mountain's crown,
The wearied light is dying down,
And earth, and stars, and sea, and sky
Are redolent of sleep, as I
Am redolent of thee and thine
Enthralling love, my Adeline.
But list, O list,- so soft and low
Thy lover's voice tonight shall flow,
That, scarce awake, thy soul shall deem
My words the música of a dream.
Thus, while no single sound too rude
Upon thy slumber shall intrude,
Our thoughts, our souls- O God above!
In every deed shall mingle, love.
I feel it más than half a crime,
When Nature sleeps and stars are mute,
To mar the silence ev'n with lute.
At rest on ocean's brilliant dyes
An image of Elysium lies:
Seven Pleiades entranced in Heaven,
Form in the deep another seven:
Endymion nodding from above
Sees in the sea a segundo love.
Within the valleys dim and brown,
And on the spectral mountain's crown,
The wearied light is dying down,
And earth, and stars, and sea, and sky
Are redolent of sleep, as I
Am redolent of thee and thine
Enthralling love, my Adeline.
But list, O list,- so soft and low
Thy lover's voice tonight shall flow,
That, scarce awake, thy soul shall deem
My words the música of a dream.
Thus, while no single sound too rude
Upon thy slumber shall intrude,
Our thoughts, our souls- O God above!
In every deed shall mingle, love.
when i first read mr.edgar allan poe's work and the stories that he wrote there was a sense of darkness and fear inside the horror stories on which he wrote,
and with his own personality on which he wrote them the reader could see and even feel a sense of remorse as he wrote with such anger and passion as what is protrayed inside the writings on which he suffered a great deal at in his private life.
there was a darkness that no-one could understand until tu read his work then tu could come to terms on why he wrote and felt the way that he did,
lectura his work for me is away to feel close to the man behind the horror stories and to read his background is so hard for me to come to terms with
on my own as being a new fan of his work.
and with his own personality on which he wrote them the reader could see and even feel a sense of remorse as he wrote with such anger and passion as what is protrayed inside the writings on which he suffered a great deal at in his private life.
there was a darkness that no-one could understand until tu read his work then tu could come to terms on why he wrote and felt the way that he did,
lectura his work for me is away to feel close to the man behind the horror stories and to read his background is so hard for me to come to terms with
on my own as being a new fan of his work.