thomas sabo. nevermore.

But the raven still beguiling

All my sad soul into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat

in front of bird and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinkin,

I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy,

thinking what this

omnious bird of yore -

What this grim,

ungainly, ghastly, gaunt,

and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking

"Nevermore".

And the raven, never flitting,

still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas

just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming

of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o'er him

streaming throws his headow

on the floor;

And my soul from

out that shadow that lies

floating on the floor

Shall be lifted -

Nevermore!

ily bub.