And yes. That would be the marvelous thing—that they were here. And would not the leaves be upon the trees?—and would not tiny pale flowers be growing in the ground?—and would not the sky be over all? Oh, the unspeakable sky!
In the dead midnight sleep would leave me and I would wake in a vision of beauty and of horror, with fear at my heart, with horrible fear at my heart.
Then frantically I would think of the little radish-beds outside the window—how common and how satisfying they were. Thus thinking, I would sleep again and wake to the sun’s shining.
“You would not,” said my friend Annabel Lee, “stay long in such a place.”
I looked at her.
“Its simplicity and truth,” said my friend Annabel Lee, “would deal you deep wounds and scourge you and drive you forth as if you were indeed a money-changer in the temple.”
[VI
THE HALF-CONSCIOUS SOUL]
ANNABEL LEE leaned her two elbows on the back of a tiny sandalwood chair and looked down at me.
We regarded each other coldly, as friends do, times.