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THE RAVEN UP-TO-DATE.
Last night while I pondered dreary, grouchy, sore, and limp and leary,
O'er the dope in my apartments, far up on the thirteenth floor;
As I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"Tis some bill collector," thought I, "rapping at my chamber door—
Only that and nothing more."
O'er the dope in my apartments, far up on the thirteenth floor;
As I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"Tis some bill collector," thought I, "rapping at my chamber door—
Only that and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, I was thinking of September,
And the finish of the league race—what the future had in store;
And I started prophesying where the pennant would be flying,
Till at last I gave up trying, feeling very sad and sore,
For the dope was so uncertain that I gave up sad and sore,
Grumbling slowly: "Nevermore."
And the finish of the league race—what the future had in store;
And I started prophesying where the pennant would be flying,
Till at last I gave up trying, feeling very sad and sore,
For the dope was so uncertain that I gave up sad and sore,
Grumbling slowly: "Nevermore."
As I sat there, nearly bug house, longing for a near-by jug house,
Once again I heard the tapping, tapping at my chamber door;
Once again I heard the tapping, tapping at my chamber door;
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