Time for poetry
It was only a year a year ago
In a village by the sea
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name so sacred of Evee
And this maiden she hated this only thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child
In this village by the sea
But I loved her with a love that was more than love
I love her so sacredly
So that her high-principled mind came
And bore her away from me
She shut herself in a sepulchre she made
In this village by the sea.
But my love it is stronger by far than her fear
To meet or encounter with me
Because she has a hideous secret
That she hates if it comes to the ear
Of her kinsmen of straight-forward upbringing
A secret she knows I know to be
But she can never dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful and rakish Evee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the shining and glimming Evee
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the hard-shelled but clean-handed Evee
And so, all the night tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling - my darling - my life and my bride
In the sepulchre she made by the sea
In her tomb of self-restraint away from me.
Free after E. A. Poe