"annabel" poems
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 kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
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 it 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 see 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 side of the sea.
86.9k
You should have been the soul that Edgar Allen Poe loved,
So that he wouldn't have died miserable and alone,
You are the Morticia to my Gomez; deadly in love,
We would make a quirky Addams family, bar none,
I love the nerds in us and the banter of annoyance,
I love the moments of radiant love and our nature of being different,
'Cause we did meet exceptionally over persistence,
And we accept each other regardless of difference,
I wish that our love will remain eternal,
Narrated by Obi-Wan,
With a theme song by John Williams,
Directed by Lucas, nah, we don't need direction,
I do know, we need a Queen, and that's you my puddin'!
Leia to my Solo,
A Queen-B-lovin'-Quinn to my Joker,
A die-hard Drake lover with a heart for the Dark Side,
This Vader loves his Amidala, xoxoxo,
We would revel on any side but the holy!
May this love never fade, and be full of surprises,
But not the kind where there is nasi lemak with no ikan bilis!
But you make the best **** nasi lemak, sigh,
I'm forever grateful for my Babloo
I'm forever grateful that you're by my side,
My Annabel Lee, I'm grateful Poe never met you,
'Cause you're all mine!
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 9:35 PM UTC
It was only days ago
In a time of a better me
The strangers lived here, sometime ago
They dwelled inside of me
I was young, and lived rather grand
In the skin that was me
Oh what times we had, them and I, I and them
I and the people inside of me
With our thoughts ever conflicting,
None were covetous of we
Maybe it's been years, not days ago
These people inside of me
Had only first appeared
Without my sanity
So they bound me with ropes,
Those people inside of me
My own body and mind my sepulchre
No longer are we who I used to be.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
Stella found a door in the new house
Hidden under the stairs from the adults
A door with a size so small for a crawl
At twelve midnight,
She was attracted to it
Drawn by the bright lights
That shone from within.
In she went, despite just being six
Into the cold narrow corridor
She found a lonely doll
With cheeks so rosy
And laughing eyes so blue
Out with it she crawled
To bond with her new best friend.
From that day,
Mum had nightmares
And dad became prone to accidents
Elder sister almost drowned in the tub
And her brother fell from the tree house
But all the doll did was laugh and laugh.
A laughter she alone could hear
She was scared and slept with it no more
One day, while she was away in school
Doll springs out of her room
Frightens mum who rolled down the stairs and broke her neck.
Elder sister was choked by her own necklace
Little brother gouged his eyes out
Dad set himself and the house ablaze.
And when Aunt came to take her away
Not a second glance did she spare the hateful laughing doll.
Thirty five years later, in her new home
Her daughter, Annabel came running into the room with a happy scream
With the doll held up in her hands.
"Look what I found! I'll call her Annie!"
Taken aback, eyes wide with shock
Those mockiing blue eyes holding hers
Stella clasped the sides of her head
And screamed as the doll began to laugh again!
A laughter only she could always hear.
The doll was back!
To take her beloved family away
Again!
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 1:43 AM UTC
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 sepulchre
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 it 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 sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
~Edgar Allan Poe
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 11:31 AM UTC
I fall in love
At the press of a button.
It rips through me
In a way that would make
Robert Smith
Outrageously envious.
You are some kind of
Annabel Lee
In the best and
Worst way.
Life isn’t perfect until I hear
You.
I drown in the happiest oceans
And need no one to
Save me.
It’s the best.
It’s the best when you
Blow me a kiss.
It’s the best.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 1:07 AM UTC
- Hi, I'm calling to tell you that:
I wrote down everything you ever said to me (in the literal sense, standing stretched against my own uncultured and violently ****** vocabulary)
- And am regurgitating it back to innocent passerby - my sincerest apologies to those poor victims of circumstance, suspended in the projectile ***** of my dysfunctional disdain
(In a slew of worm guts and warm bodies, mama-bird to baby-bird saying "please don't leave the nest" - it's too hot for blankets anyways)
My original letter to you was written on the backside of an airplane **** bag, where I detailed my favorite scenes from a movie we subconsciously made entitled "Baby's First Time", while blissfully unaware of my stern faced in-flight companion.
My first draft, though, was a series of half-hearted winks and very, very drunk texts, beginning with:
SEXT: I offer my services as sacrificial ******
(and followed a whopping six months later by)
SEXT: I am still young enough to accuse you of statutory ****
(The art of seduction seems to be less of an art and more of a particular science)
You are:
- My own personal Edgar Allan Poe, just blonder and younger, with a bigger gut and a bigger ego and (alas!) a complete lack of interest in your sweet Annabel (but I could change my name)
- And oddly enough, I'm the one writing the poems here
(The whole world's a stage, with me just watching your sad indie boy band from the nosebleed seats)
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 12:56 AM UTC
there is a word used for us,
a phrase for our situation.
******
was i your annabel, humbert?
your first,
in preparation of your very own lo,
your dolly, your lover?
did you care for me, really?
(of course not.
you were fourteen.
i was six.)
did you understand what you were doing?
(no, that's preposterous.
you were a young teen,
an adolescent,
with hormones.
i was the smiling,
unsuspecting
object of your clumsy,
confused affections.)
do you care about me now?
(nope, wrong again.
you have moved on, after so many years.
i no longer know you,
your face,
your name.)
did you ever spare a second thought
to the bright young child
you corrupted so early on
in both your lives as you grew?
did you dwell on thoughts of her
late into the night,
contemplating her fate?
do you know me?
would you recognize me,
if we passed on the street this very day?
would i be easily picked out
in a group of girls all my age and complexion,
plainly marked by the ever-darkening
stain you left on my soul,
my mind,
my body
so many years ago?
i have forgotten you,
your face,
your name,
yet you haunt me with re-emerging flickers,
flashes of memory
forgotten to have ever existed.
for so long,
you have stayed hidden,
shrouded in the fogs of distant,
intentionally buried images.
but now you're struggling, humbert,
fighting your way to the surface,
messing with my mind,
my entire sense of who i am,
altering my perception
of the accepted and the tolerated.
perverts beget perverts,
so they say.
and i, better than any other,
know that you are,
indeed,
a pervert.
so what, dear humbert,
will
that
make
me?
Jun 1, 2010
Jun 1, 2010 at 12:52 PM UTC
You have said
As a Phenomenal Woman
That
Still I Rise,
and so you must to travel
The Road Not Taken.
But
If You Forget Me
In your
Dreams,
Dearest Annabel Lee,
I will sing like the
Caged Bird.
If,
When Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening,
You should find yourself in
A Dream Within a Dream,
Then deny, for
I Don't Love You Because I Love You;
I love you more
As I Grow Older.
I will pass through this life,
Do Not Stand by My Grave and Weep,
You are not
Alone.
You too
Will Not Go Gently Into That Good Night;
For I
Don't Go Far Off.
This is the promise:
Hope is the Thing With Feathers,
or it can be
A Poison Tree,
Casting venom on
Daffodils,
Making
All the World a Stage,
And I,
An understudy in the wings.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
///
our mind can feel everything
if we can feel the beauty of roses once
it can make some meaningful words,
even can create a few metaphors of a poem
we write all through our life
it can be grown as words of war
even can be born as a piece of peace
or can be grown both,
war and peace
it can be made a pain or gain
or it can be seemed as a stream,
that can be bought a grain of sand
Even it can earn both,
the pain and the gain
life can make a song
it can be a song of joy
sometimes it may be a coy
even it can make a rhythmic tone
that can't always be a romantic tune
as the river is not always plays a full of chimes
life can be found love
or can be gathered loss
or it can be earned both love or loss
as the poem " Annabel Lee"
that gifts us a pang of pain
life can be moved long like a novel
as Tolstoy's war and peace
even life can be too short, tragic
as the life of a poet,
like Sukanta, Keats and Poe
life looks like a novel
it's growing as well
with both lost and found
of so many stir of dreams
our mind is an endless paper
feelings are as ink
times are as the pen
everybody is the novelist
begins writing since he's born
and finishes before his death
though someone exceeds beyond the death
wise men told
life is a learning
life is a continuous earning of wisdom
that can be repair our kingdom
///
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
On that lovely day, I tiptoed into a cobbled courtyard of death
The air was fresh and heavy with scents of hog-tied fear
My darling friends struggled to get free: Mary, Susan, and dear Annabel Lee
Among the tombstones I strode and, past the drear, wasted lives were what I saw so clear
Suddenly, putrid hands reached from beneath and began to sporadically spasm
They gripped my sweet friends by the neck, dragging them into an unearthly phantasm
On that lovely day, I tiptoed back from a cobbled courtyard of death
For my pretty little friends had just surrendered their last mortal breath
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 7:53 PM UTC
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 wingèd seraphs in Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wing blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsmen 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 it 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.
Dec 28, 2009
Dec 28, 2009 at 8:10 AM UTC
Oh Pöe! oh Pöe! oh Pöe!
Genio del signo fatídico!
Alma que en mí domina!
Faro de luces negras...!:
Acógeme en tu lóbrego
retiro de silencio.
Acógeme en tu místico
retiro de pavura...
Y en el retiro cándido
de tus amores puros!
Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe!
Faro de luces negras...!
Alma que en mí domina...!
Transpórtame a las tierras de Weir, de sombras llenas!
Transpórtame a las tierras de Weir, donde Ulalume
regó sobre tu alma
su fragante perfume...
Condúceme a tu reino,
a ese reino lejano
donde nació Annabel, envidia de los ángeles!
Donde se ve su tumba
cerca del mar sereno,
bajo del cielo torvo donde tu estrella arde!
Llévame a ver el cuervo.
Llévame a ver el cuervo
cogitabundo y hosco
Llévame a ver el cuervo
-sobre el busto de Palas-
que en su trágico orgullo te azotó con sus alas!
Llévame a ver el cuervo,
cogitabundo y fosco,
llévame a ver el cuervo...:
ese cuervo fatídico
-alma que en mí domina!-
-faro de luces negras!-
ese cuervo es mi signo,
y a sus influjos pávidos
obedecen mis flierzas, de horror y sombra llenas!
Llévame a ver el cuervo,
que en un país lejano,
-en el país quimérico
de demonios y ángeles-
sobre el marmóreo busto,
cogitabundo y torvo,
sarcástico y sereno,
mira, impávido y sordo,
el dolor que en tí arde...
Transpórtame a las tierras de Eulalia y de Ligeïa!
Transpórtame a las tierras de Weir, donde Ulalume
regó sobre tu alma
su fragante perfume...!
Acógeme en tu lóbrego
retiro de silencio...
Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe!
faro de luces negras!
Acógeme en tu místico
retiro de pavura...
Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe!
Genio del signo fatídico...!
Y en el retiro cándido
de tus amores puros!
Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe!
alma que en mí domina!
Llévame a ver el cuervo
cogitabundo y torvo!
Llévame a ver el cuervo
-sobre el busto de Palas-
que en su trágico orgullo
te azotó con sus alas!
1.3k
She is captivating:
She is my pet,
She is my fire,
My little nymphet.
Annabel, dearest, of sea-word waves,
Of sandcastles torn down by hungry waters.
Even now, the scepter of my passion
Stands at attention with memory.
As Humbert ages, his desire stays
Grown ladies don’t suffice.
As he dreams of Annabel in sea-word waves,
Nymphets become his vice.
But I am no liar--I am no ******
Ladies and gentleman of the jury, be calm.
And recognize that Humbert’s eyes
See your every qualm.
Nevertheless, she is captivating:
She is my pet
She is my fire
My little nymphet.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
Annabel wore white
as she laid under a Willow
She brought her brown basket
and a comfortable red pillow
She laid in the shade,
writing and reminiscing.
Bringing forth a smile
for the one she was missing.
Her days had been growing longer
and she knew wasn't fearless.
Sitting under their Willow
writing to her dearest
She wrote about his charm
She wrote about his smile
She wrote about his laugh
She wrote about his style
She wrote until the Sun turned off the day
She wrote from her heart and all it couldn't say
Annabel finally stood, picked up her basket and started walking home.
Leaving all her notes and poems, upon his gravestone.
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 1:35 PM UTC
hey so I make videos, and look, you all are smart people so who else should try and make a video for this and maybe win $1500! so I am going to do it, you should to, and if you're a finalist you get 200$ they care more bout the audio. visual is not as important, but I feel all poets should be available to this challenge! again AUDIO IS KEY! read the rules! I am planning on entering so even if you're not going to enter, please comment and give me some ideas bc I got equipment (cameras, mics, video crap) and days to film, and it's a class project/ final for me, and I GOT TO PICK IT, I sometimes like my film class ** but link below!
https://www.projected.com/contests/77-a-song-for-annabel-lee
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 10:40 PM UTC
A swan splits the stillness of the old mill pond
in the long low light of morning
White frost has settled on the bank behind
and on a figure who is sitting
head held in his hands
He looks at the moon as it fades away
from silver into nothing
His breath hangs like mist around his old grey head
and his cloudy eyes aren't blinking
And he can't recall how he got here
or the world he left behind
and his tracks in the grass they are fading fast
from the ground and from his mind
His feet are in slippers and an old bath-robe
is hanging round his shoulders
His cheeks they are flushed as if he's safe and warm
though he couldn't be much colder
fading away
He may look foolish but he is no fool
for coming here today
For the cold grey bank becomes a time-machine
and the years just fall away
fall away
*Annabel, the sun shines just for you
This moment here will make the year come true
And I can't believe my eyes
when you turn to me and smile
you take my breath away, that's what you do
In this gold, this gold
this golden afternoon
Now you strip and slip through the ripples of the old mill pond
And you laugh at the fact of the scandal in the town beyond
But if they could only see the way you laugh and look at me today
They'd be caught in the moment like you'd waved a magic wand
Oh Annabel my love*
His son and his daughter are the first to hear
and they think it is a kindness
Long gone was the father they had known and loved
and this living loss they'd witnessed
Now they can rest
The men from the council say the pond must go
and they fill it in that winter
But ears to the ground you can still hear the sound
of a young man and his lover
as they laugh and swim together
in the golden summer weather
the way
they will stay
forever.
Feb 1, 2011
Feb 1, 2011 at 10:47 AM UTC
A poet upon his or her death " Does Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night", for they have something to share with future generations through their poetry.
Robert Frost "When faced with two roads diverged in a yellow wood he took the one less traveled by and that made all the difference."
Was William Blake laid to rest under A Poison Tree? Or was he saying that we are like poison to our enemies? One beauty concerning poetry is that it can be left up to the interpretation of the reader. Even if it was written to mean one thing the readers can discover several possible meanings to the poem like discovering jewels each time it is read.
Perhaps lets for fun imagine" The Raven", giving the eulogy for Edgar Allan Poe, and talking about his life and the loves that inspired his poetry especially Poe's beloved" Annabel Lee" and "Lenore. "The Raven" proceeded to close his eulogy with the words " Nevermore".
Maybe when it was time for William Shakespeare to be laid to rest while dressed up in his Sunday best. His poem " Fear No More" could have been read leaving not one dry eye as many fans cried for a great poet and playwright had died. A big comfort to his fans is that his work is forevermore immortalized in print for future generations to enjoy. As Dylan Thomas best stated " And Death Shall Have No Dominion" because the poets words still live on in print to be read and enjoyed and discovered by many generations to come. The poems that a poet writes are there legacy that they leave for future generations.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
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 wingèd 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 kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
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 it 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 her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 2:33 AM UTC
I now sit here with the darkest poet, from long ago,
his sad story is similar to me.
Hidden as Quarles, though him you may know
as the one who loved Annabel Lee.
The difference, his love, loved with no other thought
than to love and be loved by he.
We met young, though I was not a child,
In our kingdom by the sea.
Our love was a love that was stranger than love,
I and the new Annabel Lee.
What is the will of the winged seraphs of heaven?
Do they condone or condemn her and me?
What is the reason that long ago,
in the kingdom by the sea.
That over us came a dark cloud, chilling
my beautiful new Annabel Lee.
Her icy veins now run deep,
and have taken her away from me.
An easier fate be served in a tomb,
residing where the winter tides return from the sea.
Were the dancing angels of heaven
envying her and me?
This must be the reason we part! I know,
as I have been where the winter tides return from the sea.
My love's end differs from Poe, but surely I know
What its like to lose Annabel Lee.
Although your love was stronger by far than the love
of those far older than thee,
and those far wiser than we,
My lost love can't be blamed upon the angels in heaven,
nor the demons down under the sea.
My soul shall dissever from her soul forever,
and I have no one to blame but me.
Yet the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
of the beautiful new Annabel Lee.
And still the stars never rise, without me seeing the eyes
of my darling, that hates me, and abreast I shall ne'er abide.
I shall be the one consumed by the winter tides returning to the sea.
Stuck in the tomb that shall never be.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 10:55 PM UTC
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 sepulchre
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 it 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 sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Edgar Allan Poe
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 10:08 AM UTC
My Sister Annabel
wore a button hole Anemone,
reflecting a broken heart
Sometimes trellises harness
country abounds
where the Land owner promises
wealth and company
and instead finds himself a scullery maid
where the Mastiffs in another life
may have been the commonable.
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 5:22 PM UTC
Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC