Evermore
The tale once told a cold December,
Speaks again upon November,
Whispers, of the Raven, seated-
Still above my chamber door.
And for one, uncertain reason,
At the call of autumn season,
Whilst the trees released their leaves,
And painted palettes ore' the floor,
My soul relieved from Nevermore.
Flew him through the window shutter,
Not a word of sense to utter,
No parting speech toward eachother,
Flew him back toward the shore,
Toward the darkness of the depth,
From which his soul arrived before,
His chains unbound for ever more.
Still this joy, cut short to sorrow,
As one wakes alone tomorrow,
No companion still beside me,
No more beast above my door-
Gone away, where tides have taken,
Beast and bride return to Satan,
Sunken still- to silence, taken,
Both the beast and Elenore,
Alone my soul, for evermore.
Recall her on my red recliner,
Muse or maiden, something finer,
Sweetest thing the saints could sire,
Wish her at my chamber door.
Return the devil from it's gleaning,
Slumbering maiden from her dreaming,
Be them at my side and door,
in my sights, for evermore.
Never was a cry so certain,
Seeping through my crimson curtain,
Never had a heart been hurting,
Quite like this which beat so sore-
Yet sure enough, as moon's arising,
As the night called velvet skies in,
Heard my cries, called out reprising,
footsteps ore' my wooden floor-
calling home the beast that ceased,
It's seating ore' my chamber door-
Calling this and Elenore,
To my side, for evermore.
End