PART V.

SELECTIONS OF PROSE AND POETRY.

FORTY YEARS AGO.

I've wandered to the village, Tom,
I've sat beneath the tree,

Upon the school-house playing-ground,
That sheltered you and me;

But none were left to greet me, Tom,
And few were left to know,

Who played with us upon the green
Just forty years ago.

The grass was just as green, Tom,
Barefooted boys at play,

Were sporting just as we did then,
With spirits just as gay.

But master sleeps upon the hill,
Which, coated o'er with snow,

Afforded us a sliding-place

Some forty years ago.

The old school-house is altered some,
The benches are replaced

By new ones, very like the same

Our jack-knives had defaced;

But the same old bricks are in the wall,

And the bell swings to and fro,

Its music's just the same, dear Tom,
'Twas forty years ago.

The boys were playing some old games
Beneath that same old tree;

I do forget the name just now-
You've played the same with me

On that same spot; 'twas played with knives By throwing so and so;

The loser had a task to do

There forty years ago.

The river's running just as still,
The willows on its side

Are larger than they were, Tom;
The stream appears less wide;
But the grapevine swing is missing now,
Where once we played the beau,
And swung our sweethearts-pretty girls-
Just forty years ago.

The spring that bubbled 'neath the hill,
Close by the spreading beach,

Is very low; 'twas once so high
That we could scarcely reach;

And kneeling down to take a drink,
Dear Tom, I started so,

To think how very much I've changed
Since forty years ago.

Near by the spring upon an elm,

You know I cut your name,

Your sweatheart's just beneath it, Tom,

And you did mine the same.

Some heartless wretch had peeled the bark;

'Twas dying sure but slow,

Just as she died whose name you cut

There forty years ago.

My lids have long been dry, Tom,
But tears came in my eyes;
I thought of her I loved so well,
Those earthly broken ties.
I visited the old church-yard,

And took some flowers to strew
Upon the graves of those we loved
Just forty years ago.

Some are in the church-yard laid,
Some sleep beneath the sea;
But none are left of our old class
Excepting you and me.

And when our time shall come, Tom,
And we are called to go,

I hope we'll meet with those we loved

Some forty years ago.

ANNABEL LEE.

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 feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so all the night-time, 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.

-Edgar A. Poe.