Getting frightened more and more.
And the windy gusts uncertain through the window shook the curtain,
Thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before.
Then methought perhaps the rapping might be but the servant tapping
That awoke me from my napping, she might then be at the door,
Bringing me the nightly candle, candlestick with broken handle,
As she’d often done before.
Then my soul grew strong in valour, and my cheeks lost all their pallor,
“Maid,” said I, “or Mary, just you place the candle at the door,
Pond’ring was I, almost napping, when you came so gently tapping,