761 But my heart it is brighter For it sparkles with Annie— Of the love of my Annie— ANNABEL LEE 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 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 So that her high-born kinsmen came The angels, not half 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, 762 But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of many far wiser than we— 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 And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side THE CONQUEROR WORM Lo! 't is a gala night Within the lonesome latter years! A play of hopes and fears, While the orchestra breathes fitfully Mimes, in the form of God on high, And hither and thither fly Mere puppets they, who come and go That motley drama—oh, be sure With its Phantom chased for evermore, Through a circle that ever returneth in And much of Madness, and more of Sin, But see, amid the mimic rout A crawling shape intrude! A blood-red thing that writhes from out It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs Out—out are the lights—out all! And, over each quivering form, Comes down with the rush of a storm, That the play is the tragedy, 'Man,' 763 RALPH WALDO EMERSON [1803-1882] GOOD-BYE Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home: Long I've been tossed like the driven foam; Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face; 764 To crowded halls, to court and street; I am going to my own hearth-stone, And vulgar feet have never trod O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, THE APOLOGY Think me not unkind and rude That I walk alone in grove and glen; I go to the god of the wood To fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth that I Fold my arms beside the brook; Chide me not, laborious band, Goes home loaded with a thought. 765 There was never mystery But 't is figured in the flowers; But birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field Homeward brought the oxen strong; BRAHMA If the red slayer think he slays, Far or forgot to me is near; Shadow and sunlight are the same; They reckon ill who leave me out; When me they fly, I am the wings; And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. The strong gods pine for my abode, Find me, and turn thy back on heaven. Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, |