Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou, art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
Nevermore.
"Prophet! Thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!- Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted On this home by horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!"