The Owl

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious spellbook I'd not read before,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of someone gently rapping, rapping at the dorm room door.

"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "rapping at the dorm room door--

This it is, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was sometime mid-November,

And each separate candle's ember wrought its shadow over us.

Eagerly I wished the morrow--vainly I had sought to borrow

From textbooks surcease of sorrow--sorrow for poor Sirius,

For a large and furry creature whom we all called Sirius--

Never again seen by us.

And the velvet sad uncertain rustling of each scarlet curtain

Thrilled me--filled me with a creepy feeling never felt before,

So, to still the frantic beating of our hearts, Ron stood repeating:

"It's some idiot entreating entrance through the dorm room door--

Some sleepwalking moron seeking entrance through our dorm room door.

Only this, and nothing more."

Presently Dean's heart grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,

"Um," called he, "Professor? Truly your forgiveness we implore,

But the fact is we were napping, and so gently came you tapping

And so faintly came you rapping, rapping at our dorm room door,

We were barely sure we heard you!" Neville opened wide the door--

Darkness there and nothing more.

Nervously we peered around it seeing if perhaps we found it

Measuring its body--stretched out senseless on the floor--

But the darkness was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was my whispered word: "Lenore!"

The word I meant was "Sirius", but it came out "Lenore"--

He's nameless here forever more.

Neville shut the door now, trapping in our hearts and minds and wrappings--

Then again we heard the tapping, something louder than before.

"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at the window lattice,

Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery explore--

If you'll all calm down a moment, I'll this mystery explore--

It's just the wind and nothing more."

Wide apart I threw the shutter when, with many a flit and a flutter,

In there stepped a stately Owl of the ancient days of yore.

Not a second did delay he; not a moment stopped or stayed he,

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above the dorm room door--

Perched upon a ten-inch spike protruding from our dorm room door--

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this tawny bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling

With the stern and grave decorum of the countenance it wore,

"Though your chest is stained and foul, you," I said, "are not a cowl,

Tall, serene, and spooky owl from the night's Plutonian shore--

Tell us what your lordly name is on the night's Plutonian shore!"

Quoth the Owl, "Nevermore".

Neville marvelled this ungainly bird to hear discourse so plainly,

Though the answer little meaning--little relevancy bore,

Still we cannot help agreeing that no single human being--

Never a student blessed with seeing owl on their dorm room door,

Perched upon a ten-inch nail protruding from their dorm room door,

With such a name as "Nevermore".

But the Owl, sitting lonely on that ten-inch spike, spoke only

That one word, as if its soul in that one word did it outpour.

Ron tried to speak but only spluttered, Seamus tried but only stuttered,

'Til I scarcely more than muttered, "Other owls have flown before,

On the morrow this will leave us as my dreams have flown before."

Quoth the owl, "Nevermore."

We jumped at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken.

"Doubtless," said Dean, "what it says is its only stock or store,

Took from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--

Till the dirges of his Hope, as Harry's do, that burden bore--

Of 'Never--nevermore'."

But the Owl still beguiling all our sad souls into smiling,

Straight we sat upon the cushioned beds before the bird and door;

Then upon the covers sinking, we wracked our tired brains by linking

Idea unto idea, thinking what this filthy bird of yore---

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore--

Meant in hooting, "Nevermore".

This we sat engaged in guessing, every syllable expressing

To one another--not the fowl who seemed to see our very core,

This and more we sat divining, with our heads at ease reclining,

Hearing Ron's incessant whining with the candles glowing more,

As the lights burned low and lower and we used up more and more

As he shall do--ah, nevermore!

Then I thought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Cherubim whose footsteps tinkled on the tiled floor.

"Yikes!" cried Seamus. "God has sent us--by these angels He has lent us

Help to forget Sirius and why his name came out 'Lenore'!

Come on, guys, forget your troubles--ask no longer, 'Who's Lenore'?

Quoth the Owl, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" cried Ron, "thing of evil!--prophet still if bird or devil!--

Whether Voldemort sent, or whether tempest tossed you here ashore,

Desolate, yet quite undaunted, on this lonely moor enchanted--

On this home by students haunted--tell us truly, we implore--

Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell us--tell us, we implore!"

Quoth the Owl, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still if bird or devil!--

By the heaven that bends above us--by the God we both adore--

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall find a sainted creature whom the angels name Lenore--

Find a man named Sirius they, for some reason, call Lenore."

Quoth the Owl, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, wretched thing!" Dean yelled, upstarting--

"Get thee back into the tempest and the night's Plutonian shore!"

"Leave no feather as a token of that lie your beak has spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!" I cried out. "Get off the door!

Take your flat face out of sight and take your fanny off the door!"

Quoth the Owl, "Nevermore!"

And that owl, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting,

Though you probably won't believe it, just above our dorm room door;

And its eyes have all the seeming of a Skrewt's that is there dreaming,

And the candles 'round it streaming throw its shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies darkly on the floor

Shall be lifted--nevermore!