With astonishment and wonder I gazed upon this son of thunder, as he sat upon the floor, when resolution taking, a rapid movement making, lo! I opened wide the door. “Now clear out,” I hoarsely shouted, as o’er my head my boot I flouted; take your presence from my floor!” Then, with air and mien majestic, this creature, called domestic, made his exit through the door. Made his exit without growling, neither was his voice heard howling, not a single word he said.—And with feelings much elated, to escape a doom so fated, I went back to my bed.
The Hornsey Hornet, October, 1866.
The End of “The Raven.”
You’ll remember that a Raven in my study found a haven
On a plaster bust of Pallas, just above my chamber-door;
And that with no sign of flitting, he persisted there in sitting
Till, I’m not above admitting, that I found that bird a bore.
Found him, as he sat and watched me, an indubitable bore,
With his dreary “Never more.”