Praise of Poe

Many, many years had passed when a tale I first did see
‘Twas penned by Poe, the master of woe
And bore the simple title of “Annabel Lee”
“Twas a tale of love and a tale of death that ended by the sea
Over and over I read, ‘til the pages had bled
Red ink now staining me…I had to find Annabel Lee

I was aging man, my outlook wan, she died in Literary
How would I find, where was the sign
I longed to direct me, to the body of Annabel Lee
Twas in Baltimore where Poe spoke no more in 1849
I’d start my quest, my futile jest, my pursuit of history
Upon Eastern shore, its rocks I’d scour, I’d lie and die with Annabel Lee

With blistered, cracked, bleeding hands, clambered rocks and trudged through sands
Every crevice, soggy cave, to specter in sepulcher, I was a slave
I’d probe until I found her grave, somewhere near the sea
Near the sea, was where she’d be, to find her and be free
To locate a maiden who lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me…So obsessed was I…with Annabel Lee

How it transpired I scarcely know, I walked and talked in shadow of Poe
Morbid fantasies and stale wine, Nevermore, Nevermore yet still I walked shore
I’d lost all track of me…I’d lost me, I’d lost me, in the journey to Annabel Lee
If God is just, if God is right, then he must see me on this night
On this night, on this night as the crashing waves roll in from the sea
He’ll know my plight and aid my fight to lie and die with Annabel Lee

Futility in my breast did swell, did swell like hell, Oh! Sweet Annabel
Please entreat your heart to forgive me, wherever you are down by the sea
I’m not the old man you see, for I yet know ambrosial smells and distant church bells
As I continue the search for thee, Oh Angels of light do so set me right
Guide me past endless days and oft’ nightmarish nights, illume the path for me
‘Ere I pass, without finding lass, whose last breaths were passed as…Annabel Lee

Many, many years had fled, and I was dead, when bones found in cave
The knuckles were gnarled, the legs seaweed snarled, a dank and lonely grave
As the bones were removed, ‘twas one hand was so grooved upon nearly eroded name
They tried and pried and still were denied so broke off the hand feeling no shame
When the moon lies at its lowest ebb, golden, so golden down near the sea
In celestial light, a hand clings on tight, to the sea seldom name…of Annabel Lee