Rivets and romance

I'm not sure why, but I seem to have a few verses of "Annabelle Lee" floating about my head this morning. Perhaps it's all the talk of weddings.  In any case, the lyrical words of Edgar Allen Poe have stuck with me since I first read them years ago in school.

"It was many and many a year ago
In a kingdom by the sea
That a maiden lived there whom you may know
By the name of Annabelle Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
...
But we loved with a love that was more than love

I and my Annabelle Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven

Coveted her and me

...

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabelle Lee

And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabelle Lee"

There's something intoxicating about the idea of giving oneself over completely to a single thought.  The experience is almost liberating. I think this liberation is another reason I have been thinking of Annabelle Lee today. There is an unmistakeably Romantic quality to Vaune and Annie's work in the Wild. It's the marriage of fancy and feeling: the lightness of a feather cast in weighty copper; the majestic antler of a stag hung gently from the nape of the neck. It has a kind of feral delicacy, just like the love that Poe mourns in his poem.

 

Well, back to work.

Cheers!
the wild mignon