1For endless times upon the snout of weaknesses the world about
Bearing trials suffered so for longing of the lost Lenore,
I've often napped and often cursed my sure lack of fitting verse
That always tries my will dispersed upon Midnight's Plutonian shore -
Quoth that demon, "Nevermore."
And still, upon that placid bust of Pallas in his ancient lust,
Is perched that boundless evil that is called by Nevermore.
He croaks the vile, fatal entrance, sinister remembrance
That ushers not its forgiveness just above my chamber door.
This he plagues, and nothing more.
So I ponder, weak and weary, why my curse should be so leery.
That olden love that once I relished through so many days before -
That which now will never leave me - sorrow, shame, and namely envy -
Are fused within last century never to come through my door.
Ah, the light is nevermore.
But still I wish it every day - my vanity will not dismay -
And so I'll wish for all of time until the famous days of yore
Will possess my rotting deathbed and bring me to the one I wed,
Flailing, frightened, furied, fetid, now which pain me to endure.
Damn you, damn you, Nevermore.
Oft he croaks his prophetic croak, staring down at my worn black cloak
As if it bears a symbol that might name for me the name Lenore.
"Vile fiend!" I will oft respond, "quit that bust and be you gone!"
To this he answers very fond. Croaks he always, "Nevermore."
Oh that vile, ominous lore!
Then one day I drifted away, off into the chaotic fray
That bears upon its wearied shoulders the dreaming Night's Plutonian shore.
Suddenly there came a tapping, something of a faint rapping,
Waking me from nightmared napping. I spoke in discourse, "Lenore?"
I saw naught, and nothing more.
Then, as darkness came beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
There I opened wide the ghastly portal that was my chamber door.
I stood in hopes of a token, an apt reply there spoken,
But no hope of hope unbroken stood upon my outside floor.
There stood naught, and nothing more.
With then much a flirt and flutter, he betook himself from clutter,
Calling then solely and wryly on the Night's Plutonian shore.
He took his curse and all his shame with him into whence he came,
Cursing all his unmatched fame and all the love he had endured.
He broke the silence: "Nevermore."
As quoted, once was said by me, "not the least obeisance made he,"
And so he quit the seat of Pallas just above my chamber door.
There he quit his seat so quickly as to make my trials sickly,
Giving up his curses thickly poured all o'er my chamber floor.
Strange it was, and nothing more.
Since now that stately Raven's leave has given me unto reprieve,
I'm left with chance to here recall the one the angels call Lenore.
Nevermore will that evil bloke called Nevermore herein croak
Or look down on my blackened cloak just above my chamber door.
Here he'll grieve me Nevermore.