And drift and drive adown the stream;
Therefore, my bruddren, if you’s a-gwine to git saved, you’s got to git aboard de Ship of Faith. Dere ain’t no udder way my bruddren. Dere ain’t no gitting up de back stairs, nor goin’ ’cross lots, you’s got to git aboard de Ship of Faith, for
Me thought I heard a voice cry ‘Sleep no more!’ to all the house,
Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore,
Cawdor shall sleep no more!
Then, methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censor,
Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls twinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “Thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh, quaff, this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!’