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They are neither man nor woman
They are neither brute nor human

They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,

Rolls
A pæan from the bells !
And his merry bosom swells

With the pæan of the bells !
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the pæan of the bells -

Of the bells :
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the throbbing of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells -

To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,

As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,

To the rolling of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells -

To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells -

Bells, bells, bells
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

AN ENIGMA.

ELDOM we find,” says Solomon Don Dunce,

“Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet.

Through all the flimsy things we see at once As easily as through a Naples bonnet

Trash of all trash!- how can a lady don it!
Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff
Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff

Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it."
And, veritably, Sol is right enough.
The general tuckermanities are arrant
Bubbles - ephemeral and so transparent-

But this is, now, - you may depend upon it-
Stable, opaque, immortal - all by dint
Of the dear names that lie concealed within 't.

ANNABEL LEE.

T was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thcught

Than to love and be loved by me.

you may know 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 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.

TO MY MOTHER.

B

DECAUSE I feel that, in the Heavens above,

The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of “Mother," Therefore by that dear name I long have called you

You who are more than mother unto me,
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you,

In setting my Virginia's spirit free.
My mother — my own mother, who died early,

Was but the mother of myself; but you
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,

And thus are dearer than the mother I knew By that infinity with which my wife

Was dearer to my soul than its own soul-life.

THE HAUNTED PALACE.

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N the greenest of our valleys

By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace -

Radiant palace-reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion -

It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion

Over fabric half so fair !

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,

On its roof did float and flow,
(This all this was in the olden

Time long ago,)
And every gentle air that dallied,

In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,

A winged odor went away.
Wanderers in that happy valley,

Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,

To a lute's well-tunèd law,
Round about a throne where, sitting

(Porphyrogene !)
In state his glory well befitting,

The ruler of the realm was seen.

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