Rewrite the following stanzas by substituting another bird, such as an owl, a parrot, or any other bird. Make other changes in the stanzas to better reflect the different bird choice, but maintain the rhyme scheme, rhythm, and alliteration.
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
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, `Nevermore.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
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 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!
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a stately game hen of the saintly days of delicious.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of hamburger or hot-dog, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Gordon Ramsay just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this fat white bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the plump and juicy decorum of the countenance it wore upon its bones,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Fortunately yummy and aged meat wandering from my backwoods -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's tender shore!'
Quoth the game hen, `Braaack.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee into the digestive system and the Night's tender shore!
Leave no dark meat as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my hunger broken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the game hen, `Braa-' BANG
And the game hen, never flitting, is now lifeless, lying, bleeding
On the ground just below my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the temptation of a great dinner,
And the lamp-light o'er him has a .357 magnum round in his abdomen;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor (pulling out the birds colon, guzzard, beheading, poaching, frying it)
Shall be hungry - nevermore!
Though a unique interpretation, the rhyme scheme is not regular, and I'm not sure why the chicken still comes from the Night's tender shore.
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a stately river of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door –
Perched upon a bust of Riven just above my chamber door –
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this clouded 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 recent river wandering from the nightly shore –
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night’s Iranium shore!’
Quoth the river, ‘Nevermore.’
‘Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting –
‘Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Iranium shore!
Leave no gray plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’
Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore.’
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of River 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!
This is hardly changed at all.
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a multicolored parrot of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of dissolute lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Teddy Daniels just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this colorful bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the naughty and mischievous decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Impish and vivid parrot wandering from the pet store-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the parrot, `Coo coo.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no red plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my silence unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the parrot, `Coo coo.'
And the parrot, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the vivacious bust of Teddy Daniels just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a psycho'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!
I like how you use the colorful plumage of the bird to emphasize madness, but you still describe the bird as "shore and shaven" and as from "the Night's Plutonian shore."
DeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a stately owl of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of sage, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more
Then this white bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling.
By the eyes of wise and solumn anthem of the countenance it wore.
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no fool.
Ghastly grim and ancient owl staring from the gloomy woods.
Tell me what thy lordly name is on Minerva's olive tree!'
Howl the owl, `Ohhhhhh.'
--------------
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or devil!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the hell!
Leave no white feather as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my mind unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy profound gaze from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the owl, `ohhhhhh'.
And the owl, never flitting, still is sitting, still is staring
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 lamp-light o'er him streaming reflect his wisdom on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - oh!
Some rhyme schemes broken.
DeleteOpen here I flied into the window, when, with a cackle and a chuckle
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a darkish crow of the darkling chortle on its cheek
No one can stop it laugh; no one can cease it mock.
But, with mien of joker or laughter, perched beside my purple post -
Perched upon a Manneken Pis just next to my purple post
Perched, and sat, and laughing more.
Then this mocking crow turned my mind into somber
By the funny and silly manner of the countenance it showed,
`Although you crest be shorn and shaven, thou, I said, `art sure no craven.
Boisterously laugh and a bizarre crow wandering from the nightly shore-
Tell me what your poor name is in the circus show!
Says the crow, ‘Caw, Caw.’
. . .
`Be that word our sing of parting, bird or fiend!’ I burst out anger-
`Get you out of my purple post and the Manneken Pis!
Leave no black plume as a token of that scoff your soul has spoken!
Leave my quietness unbroken! – get out of my way!
Take your jokes from out my thoughts, and take your form from off my post!
Says the crow, `Caw Caw.’
And the crow, never leaving, still is laughing, still is laughing
On the Manneken Pis just next to my purple post;
And his eyes show the cunning and crafty feeling,
And the echo of his laughter seems endless in my room
And my soul from out that laughter that lies floating in the air
Shall be lifted – Caw Caw!
Very different, but rhyme scheme not regular.
DeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a stately woodpecker of the memorable days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of worker or man, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this mysterious bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy play steady staccato drumbeat, thou,' I said, `art sure no woodpecker.
Ghastly grim and ancient woodpecker wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the woodpecker, `Nevermore.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the woodpecker, `Nevermore.'
And the woodpecker, never flitting, still is sitting, still is slowly slicing timber;
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 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!
I like the woodpecker idea, but you still have it coming from "the Night's Plutonian shore" and is failed to explore the full implications of the change of bird.
Delete
ReplyDeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately goose of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this foolhardy bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the brave yet plain confusion of the countenance it wore,
`Since thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure a craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient goose wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the great Canadian shore!'
Honk the goose, `Nevermore.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the lame Manitoba shore!
Leave no white plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Honk the goose, `Nevermore.'
And the goose, 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 retard's that is wondering,
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!
Though there are a few changes and the rhyme scheme is unbroken, I'm not sure what you were trying to do with the mood an implications of the poem.
DeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Open here I flung the door, when, with a cock-a-doodle doo,
There stood a asinine looking bird, one of such a dumb countenance,
He stood there and danced, danced, and danced, and then stood there again,
Looked at me, did he with the blank eyes, stared into the blank space,
He stood there, made a little sound, and nothing more,
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, `Nevermore.'
This bird, ever so ugly, stares at me and smile I did,
The oblivious stare that he contains angers me, if ever such as dumb bird be created,
“He won’t do anything,” I said, “such a dumb bird is nothing,”
I smiled at it and decided to chase it away-
It must work I thought, but it didn’t go anyway,
Then it looked at me as if it was smiling and said, “ha”,
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
“Get away from me you annoying fiend,” I stood there screaming-
“Go back to your stupid farm and obey your master!”
Leave me be and allow me to continue on my worthless life!
Leave me be and I will not hurt you!
Take your annoying beak away from my head and leave the premises at once!
The chicken ever so dumbly stared at me and said, “Ha”
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 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!
And the dumb bird, ever so stupidly, just stood there and stared at me,
Alas, I could not handle this stupid creature anymore,
His blank stare angers me to the point, a knife I got into my hands and ran out,
He finally fluttered his wings and screamed loud,
Ha! Ha! Ha! And nothing more,
I finally stabbed the knife onto his neck and he died.
Good interpretation, though there's little rhyme scheme.
DeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a turkey vulture of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my meaty door -
Perched, and ate, and nothing more.
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 fat and ugly, thou,' I said, `art sure no craving.
Ghastly fat and ugly vulture wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the ugly vulture, `Eat more.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or chubby fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no meat as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my meat!'
Quoth the vulture, `Eat more.'
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my meaty door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a fat person that is eating,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his fat on the floor;
And my fat from out that skin that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - eat more!
Interesting interpretation. Some irregular rhyme schemes, and I'm not sure why the turkey vulture comes from the "Night's Plutonian shore."
DeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a stately turkey of the strange days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of arrogance or ignorance, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Ben Franklin just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this spotted bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the pink and saggy wattle of the deplorable face it wore,
`Though thy chest be tiered and swollen, thou,' I said, `art sure in no oven.
Pompously plump and dumb turkey wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's American shore!'
Quoth the turkey, `Glagud-gad-guddle.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or idiot!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the wilderness and the Night's American shore!
Leave no striped plume as a token of that nonsense thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my logicalness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my head, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the turkey, `Gladgud-gad-guddle.'
And the turkey, never swaying, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Ben Franklin just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a person's that is trolling,
And the vile beast swung around and threw his waste on the floor;
And my argument from out that waste that lies ruining my floor
Shall be valid - nevermore!
Very good.
DeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a stately peacock of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and stood, and nothing more.
Then this colorful bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the fancy and solemn decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy chest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Powerful stare and ancient peacock wandering from the glory palace -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on royal Nefertari's basilica!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or justice!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the radiance and royal Nefertari's basilica!
Leave no color plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my false tale unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy tail from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
And the raven, never flitting, still is standing, still is standing
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a angel's that is examining,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul, from the truth that lies barren on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
While the idea of the peacock had potential, you still have the raven quoting "Nevermore."
DeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a Big Bird of the good ol' days of youth.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of canary or chicken, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Muppets just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this bright yellow 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.
Pleasant jolly and giant canery wandering from 123 Sesame Street -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the bird, `Nevermore.'
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a bravely eagle of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, stood above my chamber door -
Stood upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Stood, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this mighty 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.
Swiftly soar and clever eagle wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Yelled the eagle, `Hawk.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no white or black feather as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the scream above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Yelled the raven, `Hawk.'
And the eagle, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting mightily
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 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!
The hawk idea had potential, but little is actually changed about the poem.
DeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a stately eagle of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this gigantic bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the energetic and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no hawk.
Ghastly grim and ancient eagle` wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Olympic shore!'
Quoth the eagle, `Nevermore.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Olympic shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the eagle, `Nevermore.'
And the eagle, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the shoulder of Zeus just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a divine's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him seem dark around it;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
Though there are some changes, they are few and inconsistent. Is the eagle on Pallas or Zeus?
DeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a righteous eagle of the days of yore.
With the most obeisance made he; with more a minute stopped and stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this glorious colored bird shifted my sad fancy into smiling,
By the definite and determined decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Blissful of hope and lively eagle wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the eagle, `evermore.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the happiness above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the eagle, `evermore.'
And the eagle, 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 angel 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!
Though there are some changes, it's unclear how the eagle is different from the raven.
DeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a sacred owl of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this glossy bird beguiling my depressed humor into jolly,
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 delicate owl wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Woo the owl, ` whoo ooh.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Woo the owl, ` whoo ooh.'
And the owl, 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 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!
Minimal changes.
DeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a sacred penguin of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, beeped above my chamber door -
Beeped upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Beeped, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this blackNwhite bird beguiling my depressed humor into jolly,
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 delicate penguin wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Penbeep beep, `Beep.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Penbeep beep, `Beep.'
And the penguin, 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 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!
Minimal changes.
DeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a pitch black crow of the gloomy nights of yore
Not the least bit of fear showed he, of darker days to come bode he
But with dark intents glowed he, and gave a stare that chilled me to the core
Gave a stare with his sharingan that chilled me to the core
Sat and stared, and nothing more
Then this sleek black bird deceiving, my lonely heart into weeping
By the songs of beauty and grace that it sang.
‘Though your crest be dark as any foe, thou’, I said, art sure no crow
Ghastly grim and ancient crow, wandering in from where heaven’s bells once rang
Tell me what thy lordly name is, and what are the sad songs that you sang
Cawed the crow, ‘Nevermore’
…
Be that our word of parting, bird or fiend! I shrieked upstarted
Get thee back to the dark and shadows where you belong!
Leave no darkness as a token, of the lie thy soul has spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- for my peace and quiet I long
Take thy beak from out my heart, I have done you no wrong
Cawed the crow, ‘Nevermore’
And the crow, with eyes flaring, still is staring still is staring
With his sharingan, just above my chamber door,
All his eyes have all the seeming, of a demon 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
This is actually quite good. It's unfortunate that I am only giving you half credit for posting late.
DeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped a stately diver of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
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 quitter.
Ghastly grim and ancient diver wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the diver, `Nevermore.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the diver, `Nevermore.'
And the diver, 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 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!
By Alex Yu
ReplyDeleteOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately sparrow of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of child or baby, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this minute bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the childish playfulness of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Amicable friend and tiny sparrow wandering from the beautiful shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Venus's shore!'
Quoth the sparrow, `Nevermore.'
. . .
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Venus's shore!
Leave no brown feather as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the sparrow, `Nevermore.'
And the sparrow, 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 an evil goddess'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!
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
ReplyDeleteIn there stepped an orange parrot that I've never seen before
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Latched itself to the ledge just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this orange bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the bright plumage and haughty look it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
This carrot-like parrot wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me why you are so orange, was it witch lore?'
Quoth the parrot, `Carrot store.'
. . .
`Be that word our inside joke, we can use it to provoke -
`Get thee back into the beach with an orange shore!
Leave noise that woke the baby bird in the egg yolk!
Leave my boredom broken! - stay and hover around my door!
Take thy beak and chirp happily, and fly around my door!'
Quoth the parrot, `Carrot store.'
And the parrot, never quiet, still like a riot, still like a riot
Latched on the ledge just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the flustering of a crazy bird that is blustering,
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 - at the carrot store!