Vir. O, no, no, no! I want to tell you too, Edgar, I have never felt that I quite belong here. It is all too good for me—so beautiful, and I am not beautiful.
Poe. (Rising) Why, my little aspiring Venus, let me tell you something. I have wandered somewhat in life—at home and over sea—and I have never looked upon a woman fairer than yourself.
Vir. (Springing up in delight) O, I am so happy! You would not flatter me! You are the soul of truth!
Poe. It is no flattery, little maid, as the world will soon teach you.
Vir. I have nothing to do with that world, Edgar. My world is the circuit of our mocking-bird’s wing. O, where is he? (Calls) Freddy! Freddy! He is not near or he would come. But he never goes farther than the orchard. Freddy!... He has not sung to me this morning. You have n’t heard his finest song yet. O, ’t is sweeter than—
Poe. (Picking up book) Than Spenser?
Vir. Yes—than Spenser. Though he makes music too, and we were just coming to the siren’s song. Shall I read?
Poe. Do! I knew not how to love him till he warbled from your tongue.
Vir. ’T is where the mermaid calls the knight.
(Reads)