22|Marzo|09
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 of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "Tis some visiter" I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door". "Only this, and nothing more". Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the 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 name Lenore. Nameless here for evermore.