The End of the Raven by Edgar Allan Poes Cat with canonical apologies to Edgar Allan Poe On a night quite unenchanting, when the rain was downward slanting, I awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for. Tipsy and a bit unshaven, in a tone I found quite craven, Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door. Ravens very tasty, thought I, as I tiptoed oer the floor, There is nothing I like more. Soft upon the rug I treaded, calm and careful as I headed Towards his roost atop that dreaded bust of Pallas I deplore. While the bard and birdie chattered, I made sure that nothing clattered, Creaked, or snapped, or fell, or shattered, as I crossed the corridor; For his house is crammed with trinkets, curious and weird decor -- Bric-a-brac and junk galore. Still the Raven never fluttered, standing stock-still as he uttered, In a voice that shrieked and sputtered, his two cents worth -- Nevermore. While this dirge the birdbrain kept up, oh, so silently I crept up, Then I crouched and quickly leapt up, pouncing on the feathered bore. Soon he was a heap of plumage, and a little blood and gore -- Only this and not much more. Oooo! my pickled poet cried out, Pussycat, its time I dried out! Never sat I in my hideout talking to a bird before; How Ive wallowed in self-pity, while my gallant, valiant kitty Put an end to that damned ditty - then I heard him start to snore. Back atop the door I clambered, eyed that statue I abhor, Jumped - and smashed it on the floor. URL: able2know.org/topic/868-1
Posted on: Fri, 27 Jun 2014 21:05:55 +0000
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