THE RAVEN.

NCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of for gotten lore

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber

door.

"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door

Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow ;-vainly I had sought to

borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow

Lenore

sorrow for the lost

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name

Lenore

Nameless here for evermore.