But it was, in fact, my liver caused me so to shake and shiver,
And to think a common Raven supernatural influence bore;
I in truth had, after dining, been engaged some hours in “wining”—
To a grand old port inclining—which its date was ’44!
And it was this crusted vintage, of the season ’44,
Which had muddled me so sore.
But next morn my “Eno” taking, for my head was sadly aching,
I descended to my study, and a wicker cage I bore.
There the Raven sat undaunted, but I now was disenchanted,
And the sable fowl I taunted as I “H-s-s-h-d!” him from my door,