Is there a poem that you adore, but which, um, you might think twice about claiming in a crowd of sophisticated MFA grads? (OK, as for me, I'm shameless.) A poem which, despite of, or maybe even because of, its arguable flaws--an old-fashioned sentimentality, some odd jangles, Jingoism, etc., you love unconditionally? This is one of my favorites. I love it despite of (because of?) the jingle killing/chilling--and one of my favorite lines of all time is "the demons down under the sea." It has a strange power (the embarassment of riches in terms of sound--anaphora, internal rimes, etc., the almost mythopoeic narrative). (There are also elements here which seem to prefigure Ransom--the "high-born kinsmen", the death by chills.) I'm given to walking around the house reciting it when in a certain mood. The Library of America series American Poetry gives the last line as "In her tomb by the side of the sea", but I always knew it as "by the sounding sea", which seems to me superior.
Annabel Lee
by Edgar Allan Poe
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 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 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 die 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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