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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.

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Where the people did not dwell;
They had gone unto the wars,

Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,
Nightly, from their azure towers,
To keep watch above the flowers,
In the midst of which all day
The red sun-light lazily lay.
Now each visitor shall confess

The sad valley's restlessness.
Nothing there is motionless-

Nothing save the airs that brood

Over the magic solitude.

Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees

That palpitate like the chill seas

Around the misty Hebrides!

Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven

That rustle through the unquiet heaven

Uneasily, from morn till even,

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They wave-from out their fragrant tops

Eternal dews come down in drops.

They weep:- from off their delicate stems

Perennial tears descend in gems.

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