I'm Welcome to Druidcast 19.

Welcome to Druidcast 19. The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,

while I nodded, nearly napping,

suddenly there came a tapping,

as if someone gently rapping, tapping at my chamber door.

To some visitor, I muttered,

tapping at my chamber door,

merely this and nothing more. Ah, distinctly I remember it was in a 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.

Sorrow for the lost Lenore.

For the rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore.

Nameless here, forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain.

Thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before.

Presently to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,

Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door some late visitor and treating

entrance at my chamber door merely this and nothing more out into the darkness peering long eyes eyes stood there wandering, fearing,

doubting, dreaming, dreams no mortal ever dare to dream before.

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no talk

and the only word there spoken was the whisper whispered word Lenore this I whispered

...