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T is some visitor,tapping at my chamber door; Only this and nothing more.
Surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore; Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore: T is the wind and nothing more.
Doubtless, what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster. Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore: Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore. Of 'Never—nevermore.'
Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend! Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
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