Sunday, May 24th, 2009
Issue: 127   Editor: Mikamon


A State Don - Nevermore! Ethy11
Once upon a lunchtime sunny, while I pondered as happy as a bunny,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten 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, much to my dismay, it was the sunny, breezy month of may,
And each separate shaddow drew itself upon a floor of grey.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
brightness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that brightness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no state don ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the blinding brightness gave no token who was there or nore?

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the breezy wind of may and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a crack and bang, there shot a bullet, a bullet from a far.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, shot through my heart, shot it true until the blood poured true'er. and like a pain of scewer i dropped, dropped until the blood ran fewer!

And the shooters eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the sunlight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted as my last words where "nevermore!"