“What were his cohorts gleaming with?” said my friend Annabel Lee.
“Purple and gold,” said I.
“What was the sheen of their spears like?” said my friend Annabel Lee.
“Stars on the sea,” said I.
“When?” said my friend Annabel Lee.
“When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee,” said I.
“All of which proves,” said my friend Annabel Lee, “that I’ve but to fiddle and you will dance, you poor, miserable, little rat. And my thought is, what is it better to be than second in Rome?”
“First in a little Iberian village,” said I.
“But I’m not sure whether it is or not,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “Some day you and I will go out into the great, broad world. Then we shall see who will be first and who will be second. The great, broad world is the best place of all wherein to find ourselves. And no matter how we were situated before, we shall certainly be situated differently in the great broad world. In the great broad world there will be apples—apples enough for you and for me. But, who knows? you poor miserable little rat; it may be that your lot will be all the sweet, juicy apples, whilst I shall be given the cores. In the great broad world there will be ripe-red-raspberry shortcake—enough for you and for me. But, who knows? you poor miserable little rat; it may be that your lot will be all the ripe red raspberries, whilst I shall be given the crusts. In the great broad world there will be cigarettes—cigarettes enough for you and for me. But, who knows? You poor miserable little rat; it may be that your lot will be all the fine Egyptian tobacco and rice paper and clouds and clouds and clouds of pearl gray, soft pearl gray, to wrap you round, whilst I shall go looking in empty boxes all day long, and never a cigarette. In which case mine will be by far the better lot in the end,” said my friend Annabel Lee, “according to the law of compensation.”