The Night-Wind (or a very, very awful "Raven" imitation)
Once upon a midnight dreary
Whilst I sat there, very bleary
Over a huge, thick and heavy book of a Beethoven score.
Eagerly I wished the morning
At the night’s moon I sat, scorning
My dear music, I sat forlorning
Forlorning, which was something I abhorred.
Then methought the wind kicked up
Whining and wailing like a pup
Then whispering in my cup-ed ear, chilling me to my soul’s core.
“Draugh!” I cried. “Thy God hath lent thee!”
“To chill me, freeze, keep me”
“Up late into the night! Tell me, truely, I implore:”
“Wilst thou keep me up late this night?”
“Tell me. Tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the night-wind: “Evermore.”