ANNABEL LEE By EDGAR ALLAN POE T was many and many a year ago, IT In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden 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, But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee,— With a love that the wingèd seraphs of heaven And this was the reason that long ago, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling The angels, not so happy in heaven, 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, But our love it was stronger by far than the love And neither the angels in heaven above, 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. THE THREE FISHERS By CHARLES KINGSLEY HREE fishers went sailing out into the west THE Out into the west as the sun went down; Each thought on the woman who loved him the best, And the children stood watching them out of the town; For men must work, and women must weep; Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower, And trimmed the lamps as the sun went down; And they looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower, And the night rack came rolling up, ragged and brown; But men must work, and women must weep,- THE NIGHT RACK CAME ROLLING UP Three corpses lay out on the shining sands In the morning gleam as the tide went down, And the women are weeping and wringing their hands, For those who will never come back to the town; For men must work, and women must weep, And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep,-And good-bye to the bar and its moaning. THE REAPER'S DREAM By THOMAS BUCHANAN READ HE road was lone; the grass was dank Twith night-dews on the briery bank With night-dews on the briery bank Whereon a weary reaper sank. His garb was old; his visage tanned; Could find no work in all the land. He saw the evening's chilly star A moment on the horizon's bar It hung, then sank, as with a sigh; To soothe his pain, Sleep's tender palm She touched his eyes; no longer sealed, They were not brawny men who bowed, |