We all love Edgar Allan Poe, it’s just that sometimes he tends to get a bit carried away! Oh great, here he comes. Now whatever you do, please, please don’t get him started on Annabel Lee . . . too late! Now you’ve gone and done it!
“What? Did somebody say Annabel Lee? It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea . . . “
Just for future reference, Edgar, saying many and many is the same thing as saying many – I know you’re into writing so I thought I’d pass that along.
“That a maiden there lived whom you may know, by the name of Annabel Lee”
No, I don’t know her, but I have heard of her.
“And this maiden she lived with no other thought, than to love and be loved by me”
Uh . . . OOOKAAY . . .
“I was a child and she was a child in this kingdom by the sea”
Really? Google says you were 27 and she was 14, but nevermind, keep going.
“But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee”
Shouldn’t it be: “My Annabel Lee and I”?
“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 you’re telling me the wind was jealous of you and Annabel Lee? Oh something’s blowing alright, Edgar, but I’d have to say it probably involves smoke, a skirt and the direction of up — if you know what I mean.
“So that her high-born kinsmen came and bore her away from me”
Uh, I have a feeling those high-born kinsmen were her parents, and if they were smart, they didn’t let her play with you anymore.
“To shut her up in a sepulchre, in the kingdom by the sea”
Hold on a sec while I google sepulcher . . . Let’s see . . . it say s a small room or monument where a dead person is laid . . . WHAT? Am I missing something here?
“That the wind came out of the cloud by night, chilling and killing my Annabel Lee”
Hold on! Whoa! OK, I don’t like the direction this is going in. I’m calling your psychiatrist.
“For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams”
It’s too late to be all cheery now, just get in the car, Edgar.
“Oh, 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 lay down by the tide . . .”
Yeah sure, Edgar. You just keeeep telling yourself that. Watch your head . . . that’s right. What’s that Edgar? Where are we going? We’re just going for a drive, Edgar . . . it’ll be fun!
“Oh my darling — my darling — my life and my bride, in the sepulchre there by the sea, in her tomb by the sounding sea . . .”
Listen, Edgar, why don’t I see if I can find a happy song on the radio . . . until we get there . . . not that we’re going to the Institute . . . no-no, we’re just going wherever the jealous wind blows us. . . it’ll be fun!
And there you have it, Dear Readers, yet another futile attempt by this blog to cheer up literature’s most gloomy Gus, Edgar Allan Poe.
Until next time . . . I love you