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!
Other friends have flown before—On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.
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!