"Annabel Lee" was published posthumously, Poe's last completed poem, and it feels like the work of a young and vigorous man, not someone as hard pressed as he.
For the infamous wind I've put our young heroine in her bed, dressed for the warmth of late summer, as the first chill of autumn descends upon her in the form of a killing wind, snuffing the candles and (eventually) her. I considered adding blowing leaves inside the room, but I preferred the almost classical spareness of the room, richly appointed and yet lacking in personal effects.
Creating art is like being god: SOMEthing is here (rather than NOthing) purely because I say so - meglomania, monomania, infinite subtlety: Illustration is fun!