  AH, distinctly I remember ’T was my first and not December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor, Eagerly I wished the morrow, Vainly I had sought to borrow In my last, surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore. For my whole so rare and radiant, Whom the angels name Lenore— Nameless here forevermore. |
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