He was a sad man, he missed his lost love Lenore. He read many forgotten lore to forget his lost love.
The uncertain rustling of the purple curtain thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terror 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;- This it is nothing more.
Deep intro that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was broken when i whispered the word "Lenore" , and an echo murmured back the word "Lenore".
Open here I flung the shutter , when, with many a flirt a flutter in there stepped a stately Raven of the Saintly days of yore.
But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door, thinking what the ominous bird of you meant in croaking "nevermore".
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!, prophet still, if bird or devil! By heven that bends above us, by theat God we both adore, be that word our sign of parting and take thy form off my door!" And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting.
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