The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe
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The Raven is tap tap tapping on his chamber door
His books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore
Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before.
This ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
The raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only that one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing to the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core.
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