It was many and many a year ago, / In a kingdom by the sea,
Annabel Lee was Poe’s last complete poem. It was written in 1849, the year he died, and first printed in the New York Tribune two days after his death.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, / Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, / Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
All the privilege I claim for my own sex (it is not a very enviable one; you need not covet it), is that of loving longest, when existence or when hope is gone.
All the world’s a stage, / And all the men and women merely players;