Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious collection of forgotten demos and some more,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my quake live chatting.
'Tis some invitation,' I muttered, 'tapping at my quake live chatting -
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 demos surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Vor -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named the Vor -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each apple(c) 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 invitation entreating entrance at my quake live chatting -
Some late invite entreating entrance at my quake live chatting; -
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 quake live chatting,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the chatting; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word 'Vor!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, 'Vor!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the game 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 latency;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the ping and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a warp and flutter,
In there stepped a stately keel of the saintly days of Purgator'.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my telepor' -
Perched upon a bust of Carmacks just above my telepor' -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this plutonium keel beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
'Though thy head be shorn with lodbias minus two, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient keel wandering from the tanking shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Junior's tanking shore!'
Quoth the keel, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing keel above his telepor' -
keel or bones above the sculptured bust above his telepor',
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the keel, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a lean then he warp-'-r--e-d -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the keel said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
'Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."

But the keel still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of keel and bust and telepor';
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous keel of Purgator' -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous keel of Purgator'
Meant in screaming `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the mousepads velvet lining that the map-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet mousepad lining with the map-light gloating o'er,
He shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by nVc whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
'Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of the Vor!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Vor!'
Quoth the keel, `Nevermore.'

'id!' said I, 'thing of evil! - id still, if keel or deviloper! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in campgrounds midst? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the keel, `Nevermore.'

'id!' said I, 'thing of evil! - id still, if keel or deviloper! -
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant England,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named the Vor -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named the Vor?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

'Be that word our sign of parting, keel or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
'Get thee back into the tempest and the Junior's Tanking shore!
Leave no bright plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my telepor'!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my telepor'!'
Quoth the keel, `Nevermore.'

And the keel, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Carmacks just above my telepor';
And his eyes have all the seeming of a dem0n's that is dreaming,
And the map-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the server disconnected
Shall be lifted - nevermore!