In the lovely poem Annabel Lee

The author rhymes his infatuation

The angels kill her because of envy

All the same he loves her weak expression

Look beneath the sly words and anapest

If one does find a meaning so sublime

Never again at ease their mind will rest

Thoughts will drift to dark corners in no time

Normal people don’t lay by tombs at night

And dream of Annabel Lee with desire

The moon implies romantic delight

“The rolling of the night-tide” is satire

Poe watched women in his life suffer

He writes of lovely corpses with pleasure