Text: Edgar Allan Poe, “Annabel Lee” (Text-04b), Sartain’s Magazine, January 1850, 6:99-100


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[page 99, unnumbered, column 2, continued:]

POE’S LAST POEM.

In the December number of our Magazine we announced that we had another poem of Mr. Poe’s in hand, which we would publish in January. We supposed it to be his last, as we received it from him a short time before his decease. The sheet containing our announcement was scarcely dry from the press, before we saw the poem, which we had bought and paid for, going the rounds of the newspaper press, into which it had found its way through some agency that will perhaps be hereafter explained. It appeared first, we believe, in the New York Tribune. If we are not misinformed, two other Magazines are in the same predicament as ourselves. As the poem is one highly characteristic of the gifted and lamented author, and more particularly, as our copy of it differs in several places from that which has been already published, we have concluded to give it as already announced.

 ANNABEL LEE. 

A BALLAD.

BY EDGAR A. 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. [page 100:]

 

She was a child and I 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 wingéd 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 highborn 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 her sepulchre there by the sea —

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

 


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Notes:

None.


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[S:1 - Sartain’s, 1850] - Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore - Works - Poems - Annabel Lee (Text-04b)