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THE DOORSTEP.

At last we reached the foot-worn stone
Where that delicious journey ended.

She shook her ringlets from her hood,
And with a "Thank you, Ned," dissembled,
But yet I knew she understood

With what a daring wish I trembled.

A cloud passed kindly overhead,

The moon was slyly peeping through it, Yet hid its face, as if it said,

"Come, now or never, do it, do it!"

My lips till then had only known

The kiss of mother and of sister,

But somehow, full upon her own

Sweet, rosy, darling mouth -I kissed her!

Perhaps 'twas boyish love, yet still,
O listless woman! weary lover!

To feel once more that fresh wild thrill,
I'd give But who can live youth over?

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.

ANNABEL LEE.

IT was many and many a year ago,

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,

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 high-born kinsmen came,
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not 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.

THE WEEPEN LIADY.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we,

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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.

EDGAR ALLAN POE.

THE WEEPEN LIADY.

WHEN liate o' nights, above the green,
By thik wold house the moon da sheen,
A liady there, a-hangen low

Her head's, a wa'ken to an' fro,

In robes so white's the driven snow:

Wi' oon yarm down, while oon da rest,
All lily-white, athirt the breast

O'thik poor weepen liady.

THE WEEPEN LIADY.

The whirdlen win' and whislen squall
Da shiake the ivy by the wall,
An' miake the plyen tree-tops rock,
But never ruffle her white frock;
An' slammen door, an' rottlen lock,
That in thik empty house da zound,
Da never zeem to miake look round
Thik ever downcast liady.

A liady, as the tiale da goo,

That oonce lived there, an' loved too true,

Wer by a young man cast azide :

A mother zad, but not a bride;
An' then her father, in his pride
An' anger, offered oon o' two
Vull bitter things to undergoo,
To thik poor weepen liady:

That she herzuf shood leave his door,
To darken it agen noo muore ;
Ar that her little playsome chile,
A-zent awoy a thousan' mile,
Shood never meet her eyes, to smile
An' play agen; till she in shiame
Shood die, an' leäve a tarnished niame:
A zad varziaken liady!

"Let me be lost," she cried, "the while
I da but know var my poor chile;"
An' left the huome ov all her pride,
To wander droo the wordle wide,

THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER.

Wi' grief that vew but she ha tried;
An' lik' a flower a blow ha broke,
She withered wi' thik deadly stroke,
An' died a weepen liady.

An' she da keep a-comen on,
To zee thik father dead an' gone;
As if her soul cood ha' noo rest,
Avore her teary cheäk's a-prest
By his vargiven kiss. Zoo blest

Be they that can but live in love,
An' vind a pliace o' rest above,
Unlik the weepen liady!

WILLIAM BARNES.

THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER.

THREE student-comrades crossed over the Rhine;
Together they stopped at a landlady's sign.

"Landlady, have you good ale and wine?

And where is that pretty young daughter of thine?"

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My ale and wine are fresh and clear;

My daughter lies on her funeral bier."

And when they passed to the chamber back,
There she lay, in her coffin black!

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