The 下一个 morning.
A buzzing sound, coming from Caroline’s pedestal cupboard woke her up and she opened her eyes. She took her phone and opened it. She had received a message from an unknown person.
“I know what 你 are and we will destroy you” she read aloud. She swung her legs off the 床, 床上 and searched for her ring. When she had found it she put it on and walked to the window. She shoved the curtain and stared outside.
The sky was grey. It seemed like it was going to rain.
Caroline opened the window and climbed over the edge.
“Game on, bitch” she mumbled, before she jumped and landed gracefully on the pavers.
A buzzing sound, coming from Caroline’s pedestal cupboard woke her up and she opened her eyes. She took her phone and opened it. She had received a message from an unknown person.
“I know what 你 are and we will destroy you” she read aloud. She swung her legs off the 床, 床上 and searched for her ring. When she had found it she put it on and walked to the window. She shoved the curtain and stared outside.
The sky was grey. It seemed like it was going to rain.
Caroline opened the window and climbed over the edge.
“Game on, bitch” she mumbled, before she jumped and landed gracefully on the pavers.
Title: To Helen [Poem of Youth]
Author: Edgar Allan Poe [More Titles 由 Poe]
HELEN, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo ! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I me thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy-land !
-THE END-
Edgar Allan Poe's poem: To Helen [Poem of Youth]
Author: Edgar Allan Poe [More Titles 由 Poe]
HELEN, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo ! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I me thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy-land !
-THE END-
Edgar Allan Poe's poem: To Helen [Poem of Youth]