"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee, by thes angels he hath sent thee Respite, respite and nepenthe from thy memories o Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget the lost Lenore!" Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!" "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land en On this home by Horror haunted, tell me truly, I implore, |