"'Once upon a midnight dreary—'
"H'm!"—and she stopped.
"Can't you remember any more?" inquired the boy, eagerly.
"Well—a—perhaps something else;" and she made a fresh start:
"'Ah, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
"'Ah, what can—'
No, no; I must think of something a little less—"