Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore —
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'