"Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonium shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!"
Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning-little relevance bore;
Oh, Lenore! Sweet Lenore! What is going on!
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word his did outpour
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown here before-On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
"Wretch," I cried, "Thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee Respite, respite, and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore; Quaff, oh Quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"