She Walks in Beauty

She Walks in Beauty is one of the most famous poems by lord Byron. It was written in 1814 and it is a lyric poem that describes a woman of much beauty and elegance. The poem appears to be told from the view point of third person omniscient, who is believed to be Byron himself.


She Walks in Beauty
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Annabel Lee

Annabel Lee is a poem composed by American author Edgar Allan Poe in 1849, although it was not published until shortly after Poe's death that same year. It deals with the death of a beautiful woman. The narrator, who fell in love with Annabel Lee when they were young, has a love for her so strong that even angels are envious. She dies, but he doesn't stop loving her. Who was the inspiration for Annabel Lee? Though many women have been suggested, Poe's wife Virginia Eliza Clemm Poe is one of the most credible candidates.



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 winged 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.

Seven drunken nights

SEVEN DRUNKEN NIGHTS

As I went home on Monday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be
Well, I called my wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be?

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely sow that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before.

And as I went home on Tuesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be
Well, I called my wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a woollen blanket that my mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But buttons in a blanket sure I never saw before


And as I went home on Wednesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that my mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Thursday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be
Well, I called my wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns those boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
They're two lovely geranium pots my mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But laces in geranium pots I never saw before

And as I went home on Friday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a head inside the bed where my old head should be
Well, I called my wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that head with you in the bed where my old head should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you cannot see
That's a baby boy that my mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a baby boy with his whiskers on I never saw before

As I went home on Sunday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw my wife inside the bed and then she said to me....

Another version of this song, with more good-looking singers:


And two more different versions with Saturday and Sunday, considered vulgar:





And as I went home on Saturday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two hands upon her breasts where my old hands should be
Well, I called my wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them hands upon your breasts where my old hands should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely night gown that my mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But fingers on a night gown sure I never saw before

As I went home on Sunday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a thing in her thing where my old thing should be
Well, I called my wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that thing in your thing where my old thing should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But hair on a tin whistle sure I never saw before