[40]
AT my first was my friend.
We went for my last;
I ’d a half-hour to spend,
At my first was my friend;
As we went round the bend
O’er my total we passed.
At my first was my friend,
We went for my last.
[41]
AH, distinctly I remember
’T was my first and not December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor,
Eagerly I wished the morrow,
Vainly I had sought to borrow
In my last, surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore.
For my whole so rare and radiant,
Whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here forevermore.
[42]
SAFE from the cold December storm,
I sat by my whole so bright and warm,
When the cry of my first I plainly heard.
My last sprang up without a word;
And panic-stricken, in sudden fright,
We rushed out into the winter night.