Как обещала,но тут только....10 часть от всего стихотворения....в нем каких-то 100 строк....напечатала 15. Ждите продолжения!!

by Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak & weary,
Over many a quaint & curious volume of forgotten lore-
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this & nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
& 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 & radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Nameless here forevermore.

& 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 visitors entreating entrance at my chamber door-
That it is & nothing more."
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