dual personalities

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

“Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allen Poe

Last weekend, I watched a Netflix teen romcom in which the male protagonist writes a Valentine’s Day card that plagiarizes Poe and replaces “Annabel Lee” with his girlfriend’s name, to great effect on the girlfriend. (“For the moon never beams…”) I screamed internally and then posted on Instagram about it, for two reasons: at first, I wasn’t sure if the guy would get away with it, but also, THIS POEM IS ABOUT DEATH? THE LOVER IS DEAD? IN A SEPULCHRE? BY THE SEA? It’s never seemed all that romantic to me.

But here’s the real anecdote: I know this poem well because in eighth grade, I memorized and recited it to my English class. Everyone had to choose a poem to recite, and I believe the requirement was that the poem had to be at least 8 lines long. Naturally, I went overboard, opting for Poe over Shel Silverstein and reciting something 5 times longer than required. I really can’t imagine what my teacher (or fellow students) must have thought while I recited lines about highborn kinsmen and envious angels and severed souls. But I remember feeling very proud of myself and truly loving the poem. It’s funny how certain memories are so persistent, and reciting this poem is one of those standouts.

Painting is “Moonlight” (1892) by Childe Hassam