THE RAVEN. NCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of for gotten 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 chamber door Only this and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow ;-vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow Lenore sorrow for the lost For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore Nameless here for evermore. |