Open here I flung open the window shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped nor stayed he; But, with the mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
A man is reading to help his depression. As he was about to fall asleep someone was knocking at his door
And the silken, sad, rustling of each purple curtain
Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore.'
Nothing farther then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered