wing. O, where is he?
(Calls) Freddy! Freddy! He is not near or he would come.
But he never goes farther than the orchard. Freddy!... He
has not sung to me this morning. You haven't heard his
finest song yet. O, 'tis sweeter than--

Poe. (Picking up book) Than Spenser?

Vir. Yes--than Spenser. Though he makes music too, and we were
just coming to the siren's song. Shall I read?

Poe. Do! I knew not how to love him till he warbled from your
tongue.

Vir. 'Tis where the mermaid calls the knight.

(Reads)

O, thou fair son of gentle faery,
That art in mighty arms most magnifyde
Above all knights that ever battle tried,
O, turn thy rudder hetherward awhile!
Here may the storm-bett vessel safely ride;
This is the port of ease from troublous toil,
The world's sweet inn from pain and wearisome turmoyle!

Poe. No more--no more!

Vir. Why, cousin?

Poe. I shall have the water about my ears presently. I thought
I was drowning on a mermaid's bosom. Read no more,
Virginia. One nibble at a time is enough of Spenser. He
ought to be made into a thousand little poems. Then we
should have a multitude of gems instead of a great granite
mountain that nobody can circuit without weariness.

Vir. You know so much, Edgar. Will you teach me while you are
here, if I try very hard to learn?

Poe. (Plucking a flower) My little girl, what lore would you
teach this bud? God makes some people so. Be happy that
you are a beautiful certainty and not a struggling
possibility.

Vir. But the rose has no soul, Edgar--no heart, as I have. It
does not sigh to see you look so pale, and read these
lines of suffering here, (touching his brow) but I--it
kills me, cousin! (He hides his face) Forgive me! O, I am
so unkind!

(Mrs. Clemm comes out of cottage and crosses to them. She
gently takes Poe's hand from his face and kisses him)

Mrs. C. My dear boy!

Poe. (Seizing her hand and holding it) Don't--don't be so kind
to me, aunt! It tells too much of what has never been
mine. Curious interest--passing friendship--love born in