THE SICK ROSE

by: William Blake (1757-1827)

ROSE, thou art sick!

The invisible worm,

That flies in the night,

In the howling storm,

 

Has found out thy bed

Of crimson joy;

And his dark secret love

Does thy life destroy.

Annabel Lee: a poem 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 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 the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea. 

When the Lamp is Shattered

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

When the lamp is shattered,

The light in the dust lies dead;   

   When the cloud is scattered,

The rainbow's glory is shed;    

  When the lute is broken,

 Sweet tones are remembered not;  

    When the lips have spoken,

Loved accents are soon forgot.   

   As music and splendor

Survive not the lamp and the lute,  

    The heart's echoes render

 No song when the spirit is mute:--    

  No song but sad dirges,

Like the wind through a ruined cell,    

  Or the mournful surges

That ring the dead seaman's knell.   

   When hearts have once mingled,

Love first leaves the well-built nest;   

   The weak one is singled

To endure what it once possessed.

      O Love! who bewailest

The frailty of all things here,

     Why choose you the frailest

For your cradle, your home, and your bier?    

  Its passions will rock thee,

As the storms rock the ravens on high;   

   Bright reason will mock thee,

Like the sun from a wintry sky.    

  From thy nest every rafter

Will rot, and thine eagle home

      Leave thee naked to laughter,

When leaves fall and cold winds come.