THE DOORSTEP. At last we reached the foot-worn stone She shook her ringlets from her hood, 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, To feel once more that fresh wild thrill, 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 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 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, THE WEEPEN LIADY. But our love it was stronger by far than the love 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 And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes And so, all the night-tide I lie down by the side In her tomb by the sounding sea. EDGAR ALLAN POE. THE WEEPEN LIADY. WHEN liate o' nights, above the green, 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, O'thik poor weepen liady. THE WEEPEN LIADY. The whirdlen win' and whislen squall 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; That she herzuf shood leave his door, "Let me be lost," she cried, "the while THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER. Wi' grief that vew but she ha tried; An' she da keep a-comen on, Be they that can but live in love, WILLIAM BARNES. THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER. THREE student-comrades crossed over the Rhine; "Landlady, have you good ale and wine? And where is that pretty young daughter of thine?" 66 My ale and wine are fresh and clear; My daughter lies on her funeral bier." And when they passed to the chamber back, |