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The Raven
by Edgar Allen Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curios volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. 'Tis some visitor,' I muttered 'tapping at my door only this, and nothing more.'
Ah. distinctly I remembered it was in the bleak December, And each seperate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly i wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surceases of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore Nameless here for evermore
And the silken sad uncertain ruslting of each purple curtain thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, i stood repeating 'tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door that it is, and nothing more.'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer 'sir' said i 'or madam, truly your forgiveness i implore; but the fact is i was napping, and so gently you came rapping, and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, darkness there, and nothing more.


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