A little poetry to get you in the spooky mood of my most favorite holiday!
(My apologies for poetic license, but "five" didn't rhyme!)
Once upon a forum dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious thread of forgotten gore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my convo door.
'Tis some buyer,' I muttered, 'tapping at my convo door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak September,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my crafts surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Etsy four -
For the rare and snarky maidens whom the angels named Etsy four -
Nameless here for evermore.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
'Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `'art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, 'Etsy four.'
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Rokali just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light 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 - nevermore!