Away at the meeting of the sea and the sky there is a narrow line that is not pale blue like the sky nor dark blue like the sea, but is only pale thin air. And I look at it expecting to see--But in the bright daylight I never know what I expect to see in the line of thin air at the meeting of the pale and the dark. And so then all day everything is dead quiet, and my friend Annabel Lee is a princess inside the red castle. How fair a princess is my friend Annabel Lee! I fancy her in a beautiful white gown embroidered with gold threads. The gown is long and narrow and fits closely about the waist, and trails on the ground. And upon the left forefinger of the princess a great old silver ring set with an unpolished turquoise. The rooms inside the red castle are fit rooms for such a princess. They are dark and high and narrow, and are adorned with frescoes and wall-paintings, and the thick windows of dark glass shine with marvelous, myriad coloring where the light shows through. Before some of the windows bits of cut glass are hung, and these catch the sunbeams and straightway countless rainbows fall upon the gown and the hands and the hair of the princess. When the sun sets a great bar of deep golden light falls from afar upon the red castle, and it becomes magnificent with crimson. The dark glass of the windows glows like old copper. The battlements are tipped with gold, and all is like a great flower that has but just bloomed. After the sun has set and the crimson has faded once more from the red castle, and the copper from the windows, and before the light of day has gone, the sea and the sky take on different shades and different meanings, and the gulls and the wild ducks come up from far down the shore, and the rocks echo with their wild noises. The sky is full of flying cloud-racks and the water rises high and has crests of white foam. But the line at the horizon looks still the same. Then the princess in her white gown opens a door high up in the tall castle and comes out under the turret. She comes forward to the railing and leans upon it with her fair chin resting in her hand. I see her there across a long stretch of dark water, her white frock gleaming in the pale light--so high up and all--and a multitude of thoughts come upon me. The princess looks at the thin line of sky opposite her, and looks so steadfastly that I turn my eyes from her and look there also. And now there are manifold scenes there. There is a scene of a knight going forth to do battle, with his black charger and his shining steel armor. And he wears an orange plume in his helmet. His going is a brave thing. He is in the rising of his youth and strength. And for this reason I--and the princess on the turret--can see him falling gloriously in a fierce battle, with death in his veins, and the charger wandering off with no rider into the night. And the princess looks with envy upon one who can go forth and fall in battle.