| Once upon a midnight dreary
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| as I pondered, weak and weary
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| over many a quaint and curious
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| volume of forgotten lore
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| while I nodded, nearly napping
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| suddenly there came a tapping
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| as of some one gently rapping
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| rapping at my chamber door
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| «'Tis some visitor,"I muttered
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| «tapping at my chamber door
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| only this and nothing more.»
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| Muttering I got up weakly
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| always I’ve had trouble sleeping
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| stumbling upright my mind racing
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| furtive thoughts flowing once more
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| I, there hoping for some sunrise
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| happiness would be a surprise
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| loneliness no longer a prize
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| rapping at my chamber door
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| seeking out the clever bore
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| lost in dreams forever more
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| only this and nothing more
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| Hovering my pulse was racing
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| stale tobacco my lips tasting
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| scotch sitting upon my basin
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| remnants of the night before
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| came again
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| infernal tapping on the door
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| in my mind jabbing
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| is it in or outside rapping
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| calling out to me once more
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| the fit and fury of Lenore
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| nameless here forever more
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| And the silken sad uncertain
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| rustling of the purple curtain
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| thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before
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| so that now, oh wind, stood breathing
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| hoping yet to calm my breathing
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| «'Tis some visitor entreating
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| entrance at my chamber door
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| some lost visitor entreating
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| entrance at my chamber door
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| this it is, and nothing more.»
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| Deep into the darkness peering
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| long I stood there
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| wondering fearing
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| doubting dreaming fantasies
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| no mortal dared to dream before
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| but the silence was unbroken
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| and the stillness gave no token
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| and the only word there spoken
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| was the whispered name, «Lenore |