And after some days my friend Annabel Lee wrote me this upon a
square of rice paper:
Boston,--Monday.
Dear Mary MacLane:--Don’t you know a gorgon is the knowingest thing
in the land?
You may believe what your friend says of fair lilies.
But have I ever said that I am a fair lily?
As for my eyes--they are good chiefly to see with. And they are
bad for many things.
Yes--get thee home soon, child.
I miss you when I come to deck me mornings with my lavender slip
and my scarlet frock. And the gold marguerites have not been brushed
since you went away.
Naught have I to bear me company except Ellen, the faithful little
tan deer--and she can not wait upon me, and she cannot worship me.
What hast done with Martha Goneril the cat?