For Annie

Thank Heaven! the crisis -
      The danger is past,
And the lingering illness
      Is over at last -
And the fever called "Living"
      Is conquered at last.

Sadly, I know
      I am shorn of my strength,
And no muscle I move
      As I lie at full length -
But no matter! - I feel
      I am better at length.

And I rest so composedly,
      Now, in my bed,
That any beholder
      Might fancy me dead -
Might start at beholding me,
      Thinking me dead.

The moaning and groaning,
      The singing and sobbing,
Are quieted now,
      With that horrible throbbing
At heart: - ah, that horrible,
      Horrible throbbing!

The sickness - the nausea -
      The pitiless pain -
Have ceased, with the fever
      That maddened my brain -
With the fever called "Living"
      That burned in my brain.

And oh! of all tortures
      That torture the worst
Has abated - the terrible
      Torture of thirst
For the napthaline river
      Of Passion accurst: -
I have drank of a water
      That quenches all thirst: -

Of a water that flows,
      With a lullaby sound,
From a spring but a very few
      Feet under ground -
From a cavern not very far
      Down under ground.

And ah! let it never
      Be foolishly said
That my room it is gloomy
      And narrow my bed;
For man never slept
      In a different bed -
And, to sleep, you must slumber
      In just such a bed.

My tantalized spirit
      Here blandly reposes,
Forgetting, or never
      Regretting its roses -
Its old agitations
      Of myrtles and roses:

For now, while so quietly
      Lying, it fancies
A holier odor
      About it, of pansies -
A rosemary odor,
      Commingled with pansies -
With rue and the beautiful
      Puritan pansies.

And so it lies happily,
      Bathing in many
A dream of the truth
      And the beauty of Annie -
Drowned in a bath
      Of the tresses of Annie.

She tenderly kissed me,
      She fondly caressed,
And then I fell gently
      To sleep on her breast -
Deeply to sleep
      From the heaven of her breast.

When the light was extinguished,
      She covered me warm,
And she prayed to the angels
      To keep me from harm -
To the queen of the angels
      To shield me from harm.

And I lie so composedly,
      Now, in my bed,
(Knowing her love)
      That you fancy me dead -
And I rest so contentedly,
      Now in my bed,
(With her love at my breast)
      That you fancy me dead -
That you shudder to look at me,
      Thinking me dead: -

But my heart it is brighter
      Than all of the many
Stars in the sky,
      For it sparkles with Annie -
It glows with the light
      Of the love of my Annie -
With the thought of the light
      Of the eyes of my Annie.