The Ravens house is built with reeds, Sing woe, and alas is me! And the Ravens 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 McGeeThe Penitent Raven.
The raven once in snowy plumes was drest, White as the whitest doves unsullied breast, Fair as the guardian of the Capitol, Soft as the swan; a large and lovely fowl His tongue, his prating tongue had changed him quite To sooty blackness from the purest white. OvidMetamorphoses. Story of Coronis. Addisons trans.
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 demons that is dreaming, And the lamplight oer him streaming Throws his shadow on the floor, And my soul from out that shadow, That lies floating on the floor, Shall be liftednevermore. PoeThe Raven. St. 18.