Thro’ the window stepped a raven like to Ingoldsby’s of yore,
Notice took he of me never, off he hopped and looked so clever,
Flight he took with bold endeavour, perching o’er my parlour door,
From his perch he eyed me closely, watched me from the parlour-door,
Sat and looked—did nothing more!
Cunning looked he, as though chaffing—funny bird! he set me laughing,
Perched aloft, and looking grave, with both his eyes upon the floor:—
“Ebony friend, with head all shaven, surely thou canst be no craven,
Out so late, you funny raven, tell me what misfortune bore
Thee unto my humble roof, and to sit above my door.”