For Annie
Thank Heaven! the crisisвБ†вАФ
The danger is past,
And the lingering illness
Is over at lastвБ†вАФ
And the fever called вАЬLivingвАЭ
Is conquered at last.
Sadly, I know,
I am shorn of my strength,
And no muscle I move
As I lie at full lengthвБ†вАФ
But no matter!вБ†вАФI feel
I am better at length.
And I rest so composedly,
Now in my bed,
That any beholder
Might fancy me deadвБ†вАФ
Might start at beholding me,
Thinking me dead.
The moaning and groaning,
The sighing and sobbing,
Are quieted now,
With that horrible throbbing
At heart:вБ†вАФah, that horrible,
Horrible throbbing!
The sicknessвБ†вАФthe nauseaвБ†вАФ
The pitiless painвБ†вАФ
Have ceased, with the fever
That maddened my brainвБ†вАФ
With the fever called вАЬLivingвАЭ
That burned in my brain.
And oh! of all tortures
That torture the worst
Has abatedвБ†вАФthe terrible
Torture of thirst,
For the naphthaline river
Of Passion accurst:вБ†вАФ
I have drank of a water
That quenches all thirst:вБ†вАФ
Of a water that flows,
With a lullaby sound,
From a spring but a very few
Feet under groundвБ†вАФ
From a cavern not very far
Down under ground.
And ah! let it never
Be foolishly said
That my room it is gloomy
And narrow my bedвБ†вАФ
For man never slept
In a different bed;
And, to sleep, you must slumber
In just such a bed.
My tantalized spirit
Here blandly reposes,
Forgetting, or never
Regretting its rosesвБ†вАФ
Its old agitations
Of myrtles and roses:
For now, while so quietly
Lying, it fancies
A holier odor
About it, of pansiesвБ†вАФ
A rosemary odor,
Commingled with pansiesвБ†вАФ
With rue and the beautiful
Puritan pansies.
And so it lies happily,
Bathing in many
A dream of the truth
And the beauty of AnnieвБ†вАФ
Drowned in a bath
Of the tresses of Annie.
She tenderly kissed me,
She fondly caressed,
And then I fell gently
To sleep on her breastвБ†вАФ
Deeply to sleep
From the heaven of her breast.
When the light was extinguished,
She covered me warm,
And she prayed to the angels
To keep me from harmвБ†вАФ
To the queen of the angels
To shield me from harm.
And I lie so composedly,
Now in my bed,
(Knowing her love)
That you fancy me deadвБ†вАФ
And I rest so contentedly,
Now in my bed,
(With her love at my breast)
That you fancy me deadвБ†вАФ
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 AnnieвБ†вАФ
It glows with the light
Of the love of my AnnieвБ†вАФ
With the thought of the light
Of the eyes of my Annie.