ing anything!

Vir. (Sings)

Great and calm, cool-bosomed blue,
Take me to the heart of you!
Not where thy blue mystery
Sweeps the surface of the sea,
Leaving in a dying gleam
Living trouble of a dream;
Not where loves of heaven lie
Rosy 'gainst the upper sky
Burning with an ardent touch

Where an angel kissed too much;
But where sight and sound come not,
All of life and love forgot,
All of Heaven forfeited
For thy deep Nirvana bed.
Wide and far enfolding blue,
Take me to the heart--

(Her voice breaks suddenly)

Poe. Virginia! (She coughs) Don't! (Her cough increases. She
puts her handkerchief to her lips. Poe takes it from her
hand and looks at it.) Blood! (Throws handkerchief into
the fire, and stands as if paralyzed, gazing at Virginia.
Falls at her feet and begins kissing her skirt) My angel!
my angel! I have killed my little bride!

Vir. (Urging him gently up) No, dear. I was marked for this
from birth. My doom was written by Heaven, not you.

Poe. Not doom, my Virginia! (Rising) I will save you, my
darling! You shall have everything! With the sickle of a
wish you shall harvest the earth! We will sail southern
seas! We will follow the Spring as she flies! I will knock
at the orient gates and bring thee the health of morning!
I'll make the world so bright for thee, Hyperion's self
shall wear new gold and shame remembered suns from
chronicle! Spring from perfection's heart shall pluck her
buds, and set such gloss on Nature she may laud her old
self in one violet's requiem! O, I'll sing the world into
a flower for thy bosom! My love, my love, my love! (She
coughs restrainedly. He hides his face till she stops)
Even the senseless oak velvets its rude sides to the
tender vine! But I--a man--O, beast too vile for hell! too
low to be damned!

Vir. Edgar!

Poe. Do not touch me! is not the mark here? (Touching his brow)
O, where shall I hide it?

Vir. (Drawing him to her)