And sanctified in their elysian fire. 
  They fill my soul with Beauty (which is Hope),
  And are far up in Heaven—­the stars I kneel to
  In the sad, silent watches of my night;
  While even in the meridian glare of day
  I see them still—­two sweetly scintillant
  Venuses, unextinguished by the sun!

1846.

* * * * *

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
    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.

* * * * *

A VALENTINE.

  For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,
    Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,
  Shall find her own sweet name, that, nestling lies
    Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader. 
  Search narrowly the lines!—­they hold a treasure
    Divine—­a talisman—­an amulet
  That must be worn at heart.  Search well the measure—­
    The words—­the syllables!  Do not forget
  The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor! 
    And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
  Which one might not undo without a sabre,
    If one could merely comprehend the plot.