So I’m sitting around reading some of the poetic works of Edgar Allen Poe, and what should pop up?  Just an excerpt from the 1849 poem, “For 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.

     Longing … waiting … Clearly, it can drive you mad.

     I miss my Wildcat.