Collected English Verse — Edgar Allan Poe. b. 1809, d. 1849 (Part 2 of 2)

And I lie so composedly,
   Now, in my bed
(Knowing her love),
   That you fancy me dead—
And I rest so contentedly,
   Now, in my bed
(With her love at my breast),
   That you fancy me dead—
That you shudder to look at me,
   Thinking me dead.

But my heart it is brighter
   Than all of the many
Stars in the sky,
   For it sparkles with Annie—
It glows with the light
   Of the love of my Annie—
With the thought of the light
   Of the eyes of my Annie.

703   To One in Paradise

THOU wast all that to me, love,
   For which my soul did pine—
A green isle in the sea, love,
   A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
   And all the flowers were mine.

Now all my days are trances,
   And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy grey eye glances,
   And where thy footstep gleams—
In what ethereal dances,
   By what eternal streams!