Stefan and Katherine glared at each other, not sure what to do now, but Damon made it easy for them.
“Get out” he a dit trembling.
“Damon, I didn’t know” Katherine started. “I swear I didn’t know”
“Just go away, Katherine” Damon said. “You, too, Stefan” he a dit without looking at his brother.
Stefan vowed his hands and made a step towards Damon. “I really thought toi knew. And I really didn’t mean to let it happen. All I know is that Rebekah gave her blood to Elena and that I couldn’t interfere. If I could’ve, I would’ve, toi know that” he pleaded.
Katherine looked from Damon to Stefan and sighed annoyed. “I told you, toi have to drink vervain again. toi know, it wouldn’t hurt if Stefan moved back in, too” she said.
Damon jerked his head to her and cast her a furious look.
“Sorry” she quickly said. She walked to Stefan and took his hand. “We should go”
“I’m really sorry, Damon” Stefan said, before Katherine pulled him out of the house.
Damon raced to the door and slammed it shut.
“Get out” he a dit trembling.
“Damon, I didn’t know” Katherine started. “I swear I didn’t know”
“Just go away, Katherine” Damon said. “You, too, Stefan” he a dit without looking at his brother.
Stefan vowed his hands and made a step towards Damon. “I really thought toi knew. And I really didn’t mean to let it happen. All I know is that Rebekah gave her blood to Elena and that I couldn’t interfere. If I could’ve, I would’ve, toi know that” he pleaded.
Katherine looked from Damon to Stefan and sighed annoyed. “I told you, toi have to drink vervain again. toi know, it wouldn’t hurt if Stefan moved back in, too” she said.
Damon jerked his head to her and cast her a furious look.
“Sorry” she quickly said. She walked to Stefan and took his hand. “We should go”
“I’m really sorry, Damon” Stefan said, before Katherine pulled him out of the house.
Damon raced to the door and slammed it shut.
Title: To Helen [Poem of Youth]
Author: Edgar Allan Poe [More Titles par 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 par 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]