Of the bells, bells, bells- To the rolling of the bells- To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. AN ENIGMA. "SELDOM we find," says Solomon Don Dunce, Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it." And, veritably, Sol is right enough. The general tuckermanities are arrant 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. Ir 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. The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Yes!-that was the reason (as all men know, That the wind came out of the cloud by night, But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of many far wiser than we And neither the angels in heaven above, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul 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 TO MY MOTHER. BECAUSE I feel that, in the Heavens above, And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you 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 THE HAUNTED PALACE. In the greenest of our valleys Once a fair and stately palace- Never seraph spread a pinion Banners yellow, glorious, golden, And every gentle air that dallied, In that sweet day, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A wingéd odour went away. Wanderers in that happy valley, Through two luminous windows, saw Spirits moving musically, To a lute's well-tuned law, Round about a throne where, sitting (Porphyrogene !) In state his glory well befitting, The ruler of the realm was seen. outh And all with pearl and ruby glowing Was the fair palace door, Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing, A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty Was but to sing, In voices of surpassing beauty, The wit and wisdom of their king. But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate. Of the old time entombed. And travellers, now, within that valley, While, like a ghastly rapid river, A hideous throng rush out forever And laugh-but smile no more. |