It was many and many a ano ago,
In a kingdom por the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
por the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to amor and be loved por me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom por the sea;
But we loved with a amor that was mais than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a amor that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom por 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 por 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 por the sea)
That the wind came out of the nuvem por night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our amor it was stronger por far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the anjos 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 por the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there por the sea,
In her tomb por the sounding sea.
In a kingdom por the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
por the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to amor and be loved por me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom por the sea;
But we loved with a amor that was mais than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a amor that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom por 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 por 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 por the sea)
That the wind came out of the nuvem por night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our amor it was stronger por far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the anjos 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 por the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there por the sea,
In her tomb por the sounding sea.
Once it smiled a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell;
They had gone unto the wars,
Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,
Nightly, from their azure towers,
To keep watch above the flowers,
In the midst of which all day
The red sun-light lazily lay.
Now each visitor shall confess
The sad valley's restlessness.
Nothing there is motionless --
Nothing save the airs that brood
Over the magic solitude.
Ah, por no wind are stirred those trees
That palpitate like the chill seas
Around the misty Hebrides!
Ah, por no wind those clouds are driven
That rustle through the unquiet Heaven
Uneasily, from morn till even,
Over the violets there that lie
In myriad types of the human eye --
Over the lilies there that wave
And weep above a nameless grave!
They wave: -- from out their fragrant tops
Eternal dews come down in drops.
They weep: -- from off their delicate stems
Perennial tears descend in gems.
Where the people did not dwell;
They had gone unto the wars,
Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,
Nightly, from their azure towers,
To keep watch above the flowers,
In the midst of which all day
The red sun-light lazily lay.
Now each visitor shall confess
The sad valley's restlessness.
Nothing there is motionless --
Nothing save the airs that brood
Over the magic solitude.
Ah, por no wind are stirred those trees
That palpitate like the chill seas
Around the misty Hebrides!
Ah, por no wind those clouds are driven
That rustle through the unquiet Heaven
Uneasily, from morn till even,
Over the violets there that lie
In myriad types of the human eye --
Over the lilies there that wave
And weep above a nameless grave!
They wave: -- from out their fragrant tops
Eternal dews come down in drops.
They weep: -- from off their delicate stems
Perennial tears descend in gems.