Literally Poe's "The Raven" but each word is a new line

Once
upon
a
midnight
dreary,
while
I
pondered,
weak
and
weary,
Over
many
a
quaint
and
curious
volume
of
forgotten
lore
While
I
nodded,
nearly
napping,
suddenly
there
came
a
tapping,
As
of
some
one
gently
rapping,
rapping
at
my
chamber
door.
“’Tis
some
visitor,”
I
muttered,
“tapping
at
my
chamber
door
Only
this
and
nothing
more.”
Ah,
distinctly
I
remember
it
was
in
the
bleak
December;
And
each
separate
dying
ember
wrought
its
ghost
upon
the
floor.
Eagerly
I
wished
the
morrow;
vainly
I
had
sought
to
borrow
From
my
books
surcease
of
sorrow
sorrow
for
the
lost
Lenore
For
the
rare
and
radiant
maiden
whom
the
angels
name
Lenore
Nameless
here
for
evermore.
And
the
silken,
sad,
uncertain
rustling
of
each
purple
curtain
Thrilled
me
filled
me
with
fantastic
terrors
never
felt
before;
So
that
now,
to
still
the
beating
of
my
heart,
I
stood
repeating
“’Tis
some
visitor
entreating
entrance
at
my
chamber
door
Some
late
visitor
entreating
entrance
at
my
chamber
door;
This
it
is
and
nothing
more.
”Presently
my
soul
grew
stronger;
hesitating
then
no
longer,
“Sir,”
said
I,
“or
Madam,
truly
your
forgiveness
I
implore;
But
the
fact
is
I
was
napping,
and
so
gently
you
came
rapping,
And
so
faintly
you
came
tapping,
tapping
at
my
chamber
door,
That
I
scarce
was
sure
I
heard
you”
here
I
opened
wide
the
door;
Darkness
there
and
nothing
more.
Deep
into
that
darkness
peering,
long
I
stood
there
wondering,
fearing,
Doubting,
dreaming
dreams
no
mortal
ever
dared
to
dream
before;
But
the
silence
was
unbroken,
and
the
stillness
gave
no
token,
And
the
only
word
there
spoken
was
the
whispered
word,
“Lenore?”
This
I
whispered,
and
an
echo
murmured
back
the
word,
“Lenore!”
Merely
this
and
nothing
more.
Back
into
the
chamber
turning,
all
my
soul
within
me
burning,
Soon
again
I
heard
a
tapping
somewhat
louder
than
before.
“Surely,”
said
I,
“surely
that
is
something
at
my
window
lattice;
Let
me
see,
then,
what
thereat
is,
and
this
mystery
explore
Let
my
heart
be
still
a
moment
and
this
mystery
explore;
’Tis
the
wind
and
nothing
more!”
Open
here
I
flung
the
shutter,
when,
with
many
a
flirt
and
flutter,
In
there
stepped
a
stately
Raven
of
the
saintly
days
of
yore;
Not
the
least
obeisance
made
he;
not
a
minute
stopped
or
stayed
he;
But,
with
mien
of
lord
or
lady,
perched
above
my
chamber
door
Perched
upon
a
bust
of
Pallas
just
above
my
chamber
door
Perched,
and
sat,
and
nothing
more.
Then
this
ebony
bird
beguiling
my
sad
fancy
into
smiling,
By
the
grave
and
stern
decorum
of
the
countenance
it
wore,
“Though
thy
crest
be
shorn
and
shaven,
thou,”
I
said,
“art
sure
no
craven,
Ghastly
grim
and
ancient
Raven
wandering
from
the
Nightly
shore
Tell
me
what
thy
lordly
name
is
on
the
Night’s
Plutonian
shore!”
Quoth
the
Raven
“Nevermore.”
Much
I
marvelled
this
ungainly
fowl
to
hear
discourse
so
plainly,
Though
its
answer
little
meaning
little
relevancy
bore;
For
we
cannot
help
agreeing
that
no
living
human
being
Ever
yet
was
blessed
with
seeing
bird
above
his
chamber
door
Bird
or
beast
upon
the
sculptured
bust
above
his
chamber
door,
With
such
name
as
“Nevermore.”
But
the
Raven,
sitting
lonely
on
the
placid
bust,
spoke
only
That
one
word,
as
if
his
soul
in
that
one
word
he
did
outpour.
Nothing
farther
then
he
uttered
not
a
feather
then
he
fluttered
Till
I
scarcely
more
than
muttered
“Other
friends
have
flown
before
On
the
morrow
he
will
leave
me,
as
my
Hopes
have
flown
before.”
Then
the
bird
said
“Nevermore.”
Startled
at
the
stillness
broken
by
reply
so
aptly
spoken,
“Doubtless,”
said
I,
“what
it
utters
is
its
only
stock
and
store
Caught
from
some
unhappy
master
whom
unmerciful
Disaster
Followed
fast
and
followed
faster
till
his
songs
one
burden
bore
Till
the
dirges
of
his
Hope
that
melancholy
burden
bore
Of
‘Never
nevermore’.”
But
the
Raven
still
beguiling
all
my
fancy
into
smiling,
Straight
I
wheeled
a
cushioned
seat
in
front
of
bird,
and
bust
and
door;
Then,
upon
the
velvet
sinking,
I
betook
myself
to
linking
Fancy
unto
fancy,
thinking
what
this
ominous
bird
of
yore
What
this
grim,
ungainly,
ghastly,
gaunt,
and
ominous
bird
of
yore
Meant
in
croaking
“Nevermore.”
This
I
sat
engaged
in
guessing,
but
no
syllable
expressing
To
the
fowl
whose
fiery
eyes
now
burned
into
my
bosom’s
core;
This
and
more
I
sat
divining,
with
my
head
at
ease
reclining
On
the
cushion’s
velvet
lining
that
the
lamp-light
gloated
o’er,
But
whose
velvet-violet
lining
with
the
lamp-light
gloating
o’er,
She
shall
press,
ah,
nevermore!
Then,
methought,
the
air
grew
denser,
perfumed
from
an
unseen
censer
Swung
by
Seraphim
whose
foot-falls
tinkled
on
the
tufted
floor.
“Wretch,”
I
cried,
“thy
God
hath
lent
thee
by
these
angels
he
hath
sent
thee
Respite
respite
and
nepenthe
from
thy
memories
of
Lenore;
Quaff,
oh
quaff
this
kind
nepenthe
and
forget
this
lost
Lenore!”
Quoth
the
Raven
“Nevermore.”
“Prophet!”
said
I,
“thing
of
evil!
prophet
still,
if
bird
or
devil!
Whether
Tempter
sent,
or
whether
tempest
tossed
thee
here
ashore,
Desolate
yet
all
undaunted,
on
this
desert
land
enchanted
On
this
home
by
Horror
haunted
tell
me
truly,
I
implore
Is
there
is
there
balm
in
Gilead?
tell
me
tell
me,
I
implore!”
Quoth
the
Raven
“Nevermore.”
“Prophet!”
said
I,
“thing
of
evil!
prophet
still,
if
bird
or
devil!
By
that
Heaven
that
bends
above
us
by
that
God
we
both
adore
Tell
this
soul
with
sorrow
laden
if,
within
the
distant
Aidenn,
It
shall
clasp
a
sainted
maiden
whom
the
angels
name
Lenore
Clasp
a
rare
and
radiant
maiden
whom
the
angels
name
Lenore.”
Quoth
the
Raven
“Nevermore.”
“Be
that
word
our
sign
of
parting,
bird
or
fiend!”
I
shrieked,
upstarting

“Get
thee
back
into
the
tempest
and
the
Night’s
Plutonian
shore!
Leave
no
black
plume
as
a
token
of
that
lie
thy
soul
hath
spoken!
Leave
my
loneliness
unbroken!
quit
the
bust
above
my
door!
Take
thy
beak
from
out
my
heart,
and
take
thy
form
from
off
my
door!”
Quoth
the
Raven
“Nevermore.”
And
the
Raven,
never
flitting,
still
is
sitting,
still
is
sitting
On
the
pallid
bust
of
Pallas
just
above
my
chamber
door;
And
his
eyes
have
all
the
seeming
of
a
demon’s
that
is
dreaming,
And
the
lamp-light
o’er
him
streaming
throws
his
shadow
on
the
floor;
And
my
soul
from
out
that
shadow
that
lies
floating
on
the
floor
Shall
be
lifted
nevermore!