Presently the sound grew stronger. Hesitating then no longer, “Tyke,” said I, “low mongrel, truly this intrusion is a bore; Where the deuce have you been prowling, that so late you come a howling, Keeping up this nasty growling, growling at my chamber-door? I was hardly sure I heard you.” Here I open flung the door,―― Darkness there, and nothing more! Back into my chamber turning, where my lamp was dimly burning, Soon again I heard a growling, something louder than before. “Surely,” said I, “surely, that is something stirring at my lattice, Let me see if ghost or cat ’tis, and this mystery explore. Pooh! _I_ have it, what a duffer, what a booby, to be sure! ’Tis the wind, and nothing more!” Open here I flung the casement, when, to my extreme amazement, In there stepped a rusty Raven of the “glorious days of yore.” Not the least obeisance dropped he, not an instant stayed or stopped he, But, like ghoul who hopped and flopped, he perched above my chamber door―― On a plaster bust of DIZZY standing o’er my chamber-door―― Perched and sat, and――nothing more! Then this seedy bird beguiling my chilled features into smiling, By the grave lugubrious grimness of the solemn phiz he wore, “Thou art welcome to this haven,” said I, “foul, bedraggled, shaven, Hopeless-looking ancient Raven, croaking as of days of yore. Tell me what thy lordly name is, is or was, in days of yore.” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore!” Much I marvelled this most sickly fowl to hear respond so quickly, Though the _nomen_ was a rum one, it a certain aptness bore, As to those dull dupes of folly and foreboding melancholy, Hopeful seldom, never jolly, doting on those days of yore,―― Who esteem the present hopeless, utter failure or next door―― To be mended nevermore! But the Raven, squatting lonely on the plaster bust spoke only That one word, as though his soul in doldrums he would thus outpour. Nothing further then he uttered, though his spirit seemed sore fluttered. “Come!” I said, or rather muttered, “you’re dyspeptic――’tis a bore, But to-morrow you’ll be better, sleep will your lost tone restore.” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore!” Struck to find the silence broken by reply so patly spoken, “Doubtless,” said I, “this one word, now, is his only stock and store, Caught from pessimistic master, who in progress saw disaster, Coming fast and coming faster, till his wails one burden bore,―― Till his sad vaticinations one unvarying burden bore, This same Raven’s “Nevermore!”