Page:The Riverside song book.djvu/85

Still let us, for his gold - en corn, Send up our thanks to God!

To cheer us when the storm shall drift Our har - vest-fields with snow,

And frighten'd from our sprouting grain The rob - ber crows a - way.

We pluck a - way the frost-ed leaves, And bear the treas - ure home,

Who will not thank the kind - ly earth, And bless our farm - er girls!

THE RAVEN.

Edgar Allen Poe.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak

and weary. Over many quaint and curious volumes of for- got - en lore;

While I nodded, nearly napping suddenly there came

a tapping, as of some one gently rapping, rapping

at my cham-ber door;

"Tis some visitor," I

muttered, "tapping

at my chamber door: Only this and noth-ing more."

2. 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 Le- | nore; ||
   For the rare and radiant maiden, | whom the angels | name Lenore, ||
      Nameless | here, for ever- | more. ||

3. Open then I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter.
   In there stepped a stately raven of the | sainted days of | yore. ||
  Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or staid he;
   But, with mien of lord or lady, perched a- | bove my chamber | door; ||
   Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just a- | bove my chamber | door; ||
      Perched and | sat, and nothing | more. ||

4. And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting — still is sitting
   On the pallid bust of Pallas, just a- | bove my chamber | door: ||
  And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming.
   And the lamplight 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 — never | more." ||