Chương 131

THE RAVEN BY EDGAR ALLAN POE 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. "'T is some visiter," 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...