Poesy

For Annie

Thank Heaven! the crisis--The danger is past,And the lingering illnessIs over at last--And the fever called "Living"Is conquered at last.

Sadly, I know,I am shorn of my strength,And no muscle I moveAs I lie at full length--But no matter!--I feelI am better at length.

And I rest so composedly,Now in my bed,That any beholderMight fancy me dead--Might start at beholding meThinking me dead.

The moaning and groaning,The sighing and sobbing,Are quieted now,With that horrible throbbingAt heart:--ah, that horrible,Horrible throbbing!

The sickness--the nausea--The pitiless pain--Have ceased, with the feverThat maddened my brain--With the fever called "Living"That burned in my brain.

And oh! of all torturesThat torture the worstHas abated--the terribleTorture of thirst,For the naphthaline riverOf Passion accurst:--I have drank of a waterThat quenches all thirst:--

Of a water that flows,With a lullaby sound,From a spring but a very fewFeet under ground--From a cavern not very farDown under ground.

And ah! let it neverBe foolishly saidThat my room it is gloomyAnd narrow my bed--For man never sleptIn a different bed;And, to sleep, you must slumberIn just such a bed.

My tantalized spiritHere blandly reposes,Forgetting, or neverRegretting its roses--Its old agitationsOf myrtles and roses:

For now, while so quietlyLying, it fanciesA holier odorAbout it, of pansies--A rosemary odor,Commingled with pansies--With rue and the beautifulPuritan pansies.

And so it lies happily,Bathing in manyA dream of the truthAnd the beauty of Annie--Drowned in a bathOf the tresses of Annie.

She tenderly kissed me,She fondly caressed,And then I fell gentlyTo sleep on her breast--Deeply to sleepFrom the heaven of her breast.

When the light was extinguished,She covered me warm,And she prayed to the angelsTo keep me from harm--To the queen of the angelsTo shield me from harm.

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 brighterThan all of the manyStars in the sky,For it sparkles with Annie--It glows with the lightOf the love of my Annie--With the thought of the lightOf the eyes of my Annie.

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