Mary MacLane - My Friend Annabel Lee

But the only person in Boston town who has given me of the treasureof her heart, and the treasure of her mind, and the touch of herfair hand in friendship, is Annabel Lee.

Since I looked for no friendship whatsoever in Boston town, thisfriendship comes to me with the gentleness of sunshowers mingledwith cherry-blossoms, and there is a human quality in the air thatrises from the bitter salt sea.

Years ago there was one who wrote a poem about Annabel Leeadifferent lady from this lady, it may be, or perhaps it is thesameand so now this poem and this lady are never far from me.

If indeed Poe did not mean this Annabel Lee when he wrote soenchanting a heart-cry, I at any rate shall always mean this AnnabelLee when Poe's enchanting heart-cry runs in my mind.

Forsooth Poe's Annabel Lee was not so enchanting as this AnnabelLee.

I think this as I gaze up at her graceful little figure standing onmy shelf; her wonderful expressive little face; her strange whitehands; her hair bound and twisted into glittering black ropes andwound tightly around her head.

Were you to see her you would say that Annabel Lee is only a verypretty little black and terra-cotta and white statue of a Japanesewoman. And forthwith you would be greatly mistaken.

It is true that she had stood in extremely dusty durance vile, ina Japanese shop in Boylston street, for months before I found her.It is also true that I fell instantly in love with her, and thaton payment of a few strange dollars to the shop-keeper, I rescuedher from her surroundings and bore her out to where I live by theseathe sea where these wonderful, wide, green waves are rolling,rolling, rolling always. Annabel Lee hears these waves, and I hearthem, at times holding our breath and listening until our eyes arestrained with listening and with some haunting terror, and the lowrushing goes to our two pale souls.

For though my friend Annabel Lee lived dumbly and dustily formonths in the shop in Boylston street, as if she were indeed but aporcelain statue, and though she was purchased with a price, stillmy friend Annabel Lee is exquisitely human.

There are days when she fills my life with herself.

She gives rise to manifold emotions which do not bring rest.

It was not I who named her Annabel Lee. That was always her namethatis who she is. It is not a Japanese name, to be sureand she iscertainly a native of Japan. But among the myriad names that are,that alone is the one which suits her; and she alone of the myriadmaidens in the world is the one to wear it.

She wears it matchlessly.

I have the friendship of Annabel Lee; but for her love, that isdifferent.

Annabel Lee is like no one you have known. She is quite unlikethem all. Times I almost can feel a subtle, conscious love comingfrom her finger-tips to my forehead. And I, at one-and-twenty, amthrilled with thrills.

Forsooth, at one-and-twenty, in spite of Boston and all, thereare moments when one can yet thrill.

But other times I look up and perchance her eyes will meet minewith a look that is cold and penetrating and contemptuous andconfounding.

Other times I look up and see her eyes full of indifference, fullof tranquillity, full of dull deadly quiet.

Came Annabel Lee from out of Boylston street in Boston. And lo,she was so adorable, so fascinating, so lovable, that straightwayI adored her; I was fascinated by her; I loved her.

I love her tenderly. For why, I know not. How can there be accountingfor the places one's loves will rest?

Sometimes my friend Annabel Lee is negative and sometimes she ispositive.

Sometimes when my mind seems to have wandered infinitely far fromher I realize suddenly that 'tis she who holds it enthralled.Whatsoever I see in Boston or in the vision of the wide world myjudgment of it is prejudiced in ways by the existence of my friendAnnabel Leethe more so that it's mostly unconscious prejudice.

Annabel Lee's is an intense personalityone meets with intensepersonalities now and again, in children or in bull-dogs or inpersons like my friend Annabel Lee.

And I never tire of looking at Annabel Lee, and I never tire oflistening to her, and I never tire of thinking about her.

And thinking of her, my mind grows wistful.

"There are moments," said my friend Annabel Lee, "when, willy nilly,they must all come out upon the flat surfaces of things.

"They look deep into the green water as the sun goes down, and theirmood is heavy. Their heart aches, and they shed no tears. They lookout over the brilliant waves as the sun comes up, and their mood islight-hearted and they enjoy the moment. Or else their heart achesat the rising and their mood is light-hearted at the setting. Butlet it be one or the other, there are bland moments when they seenothing but flat surfaces. If they find all at once, by a littleaccident, that their best-loved is a traitor friend, and they go atthe sun's setting and gaze deep into the green water, and all isdark and dead as only a traitor best-beloved can make it, and theirmood is very heavystill there is a bland moment when their stomachtells them they are hungry, and they listen to it. It is the flatsurface. After weeks, or it may be days, according to who they are,their mood will not be heavyyet still their stomach will tell themthey are hungry, and they will listen. If their best-loved cease tobe, suddenlythat is bad for them, oh, exceeding bad; they suffer,and it takes weeks for them to recover, and the mark of the woundnever wears away. But with time's encouraging help they do recover.But if," said my friend Annabel Lee, "their stomach should cease tobe, not only would they sufferthey would dieand whither away?That is a flat surface and a very truth. And when they consideritfor one bland momentthey laugh gently and cease to have abest-loved, entirely; they cease to fill their veins with red, redlife; they become like unto micemice with long slim tails.

"For one bland moment.

"And, too, the bland moment is long enough for them to feel restfully,deliciously, but unconsciously, thankful that there are these flatsurfaces to things and that they can thus roll at times out uponthem.

"They roll upon the flat surfaces much as a horse rolls upon theflat prairie where the wind is.

"And when for the first time they fall in love, if their belt istoo tight there will come a bland moment when they will be awarethat their belt is thus tightand they will not be aware of muchelse.

"During that bland moment they will loosen their belt.

"When they were eight or nine years old and found a fine, ripe,juicy-plum patch, and while they were picking plums a balloonsuddenly appeared over their heads, their first delirious impulsewas to leave all and follow the balloon over hill and dale to thevery earth's end.

"But even though a real live balloon went sailing over their heads,they considered this: that