Tynan Portillo presents, featuring the best horror stories of the 19th century, welcome to The Poe Show podcast. Narrated by Tynan Portillo.

Today's episode, two poems by Edgar Allan Poe. For Annie and Annabel Lee.

The first, 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 sighing 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 naphthaline 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.


Our second poem, Annabel Lee.


It was many and many a year ago,

   In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

   By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

   Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

   I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

   Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

   My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

   And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

   In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

   Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

   In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

   Of those who were older than we—

   Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

   Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

   In her sepulchre there by the sea—

   In her tomb by the sounding sea.


Alright, I hope you enjoyed that little bonus episode. I know it's pretty short cause it's just two poems but I wanted a little extra content for October since it's the spooky season. And that's what this podcast is all about.

I also am trying something new, having the crickets underneath my voice. I was just thinking I might need something underneath my vocals.

Anyway, these two poems are about love and then loss, two very familiar topics to Poe. For Annie was supposedly written for a very good friend of his named Nancy Locke Haywood, who I believe was also a poet. And he called her Annie, his Annie, for some reason. And Annabel Lee was based off of his young wife and cousin, I know, cousin. Yeah. Virginia.

Now Poe was very good friends with Nancy Locke Heywood and her husband and even wrote to her and sent her parts of the poem that he wanted her approval for before he actally published the poem. And there are even letters where he wrote about his desire to buy a cottage just to be near her, just buying property to be near her. They had a very close relationship, and I thought it was romantice but apparently they were just very good friends. And it really wasn't abnormal behavior from Poe because apparentely he did similar things, writing poems for women and having very close relationships with them, with Sara Helen Whitman, Annie Richmond - well that was Annie after she got married, Nancy Locke Heywood then become Nancy Richmond or Annie Richmond - and Sara Anna Louis was another woman he had a very close relationship with. And, I mean, Poe kinda seemed like a player if you ask me. He's just writing poems for all these women and they're falling head over heels. I mean, Poe was a player I guess.

Annabel Lee was also publisehd two days after Poe's death. Now, going in order, focusing on For Annie first, For Annie had kind of hit a cord with me for some reason. He likened living to a fever or an illness. And he said that the fever of living had been conquered at last. I heard this theory that this poem is actually about alcoholism and becoming sober, and if it is, that's a really cool theme to have in a poem and to also have about this very good friend of Poe. I'm not sure, again, the total extent of their relationship. Maybe she was - Nancy was - one person who helped him through his alcoholism because he was a major alcoholic. And he wrote this poem and always got her opinion on it first, so maybe it was kind of mirroring their journey together.

This poem seems to suggest that the character is in such pain that the journey to sobriety becomes this painful living, this painful existence, but so is alcoholism. He references the naphthaline river and uses that imagery which - naphthaline is a actually dangerous chemical used as fuel to light stoves, at least back in that time. I think we still use it for similar things today. So he's likening this naphthaline river, this thirst for something that's dangerous, and it's abundant, it's everflowing, you know it's a river. He's likening his experience of life to that but then says he had drank of waters that quenched that thirst. This love of a woman, and this love of Annie quenched all of that thirst for that naphthaline, that dangerous thing, river that's everywhere for him.

And her love motivated him enough to not need it. So if alcoholism is the symbolism for this poem, it's masterfully done. I didn't get that at first, and his mindset changes from pain to positivity. You know, saying that after meeting Annie he lives in the light of the eyes of his Annie. It's because of her that he has come to such a positive place. He also compares being with her to roses and pansies that usually represent love ad virtue in literature. You know, it reminds me of spring. So it's this new form of life where new things are sprouting.

But then we get to Annabel Lee. And again that was based off of his young wife and it's mainly just about his sorrow. And I think it was beautifully put how he said the angels were not happy that he and Annabel Lee could be so happy down on Earth. There were jealous and that's why they sent a cloud down from Heaven to chill her and kill her, because they were envious, the angels of Heaven were envious of their love. I mean, it's again, so sorrowfully beautiful. Poe is just a master. That poem is just more about how he will never forget her. For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams of the beautiful Annabel Lee, the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes of the beautiful Annabel Lee. And I did think that For Annie and Annabel Lee were about the same person but they're not. But I still feel like canonically in the poem they could be, if we wanted to draw that conclusion as readers.

I think it's very impactful to think that For Annie was written about this Annabel Lee, and it was a woman who saved him and who became this beacon of light in his life. But then she was taken away, died from illness. And the sorrow that he has over losing this woman who completed him, I think that is a very impactful theme. And that's who I might choose to personally take away the stories, because the Annie and Annabel Lee could be the same character. I just think it makes it more impactful as a story. In any case, I think, again, Poe shows his mastery of poems and poetry to show not only the beauties of life but also the depths of despair when it comes to just one person. And I remember something, - I can't remember - I saw it on Instagram the other day - but someone was saying we don't need art until we need it, basically.

When someone you love dies, when some - when you fail, when you go through something and you suddenly - maybe you even meet the love of your life and you wonder if anyone has ever felt this way about anyone else before - that is when art is necessary. That is when art becomes a part of your life, when you read a poem about someone like Annabel Lee when you lose someone. Or when you meet someone and you feel like in the middle of For Annie. I think these poems are extremely important for that reason, and whether or not they're going to be relevant for that reason, they're still beautiful.

Thank you so much for listening to this episode of The Poe Show podcast. I really appreciate that you're here, that you're listening. And for those of you who listen to every episode, I don't know how many of you there are, there might be one or two, there might be five. I doubt that it's a very big number, but thank you so much for being here and for supporting this podcast. And if you liked this episodes, please like it on whatever platform you're listening on, share it, subscribe to this podcast and tell others. Have them come and listen to an episode and celebrate the spooky season. If you do like this podcast you can support it by going to our patreon, that is in the episode description, It'll always be there. And there, for as little as $1 a month you can support this podcast and support the work that goes into it. And just so you know, there is going to be, because this is the spooky season, one more episode at least, during this month. I would like that to be the Halloween special, coming out on the 25th of October so that way we can enjoy it when it' closer to Halloween, maybe you can even save it for Halloween. If you have any questions or suggestions for this podcast, you know, different stories you'd like to hear, then please email poeshowpod@gmail.com and I will address those questions and suggestions in the next episodes. I mean, if it's a good suggestion I'll probably just do it. And hey, you might be the first, cause no one has done it so far. Thank you so much for listening again, and I'll see you in the next one on The Poe Show podcast.