Shakespeare.    

	The Raven’s house is built with reeds,—
	Sing woe, and alas is me!
	And the Raven’s couch is spread with weeds,
	High on the hollow tree;
	And the Raven himself, telling his beads
	In penance for his past misdeeds,
	Upon the top I see.

Thos. Darcy McGee.    

	And the Raven, never flitting,
	Still is sitting, still is sitting
	On the pallid bust of Pallas
	Just above my chamber door;
	And his eyes have all the seeming
	Of a demon’s that is dreaming,
	And the lamplight 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.

Poe.