Tag Archives: Famous Poets


“SIMON’S WORLD!” a poem January 18, 2019 {Friday}


Simon says: “My mommy’s here!”
Simon holds her VERY dear,
‘Cause-she-suckles – and-holds-him-tight,
And tucks him into bed at night!
(It’s SIMON’S WORLD!) and ONE’s now TWO,
And, NOW – We wonder-what-Simon-will-do!
Well! No surprise! Now, Daddy’s near;
DAD-shields Simon – from every fear,
By guarding HIM – and, also, HER!
(It’s)-what-Daddy-does! We call him: SIR!
And Mommy? MA’AM and – NOW-there-are-THREE,
In Simon’s “developing tapestry!”
Attention-and-memories – solid-ify-“This-Scene,”
With, maybe, another child – for mommy to wean;
We’ll call HER a sibling – or, maybe-another-HIM!
We’ve got a little family! It’s SIMON’s little whim!
And grandparents visit! and that’s NO JIVE,
For Simon is expanding – his world along,
And Simon’s “vocals” are getting strong,
And more family members soon do arrive;
It’s causing SIMON’S WORLD – to really, really thrive,
And friends and neighbors – does Simon see,
EXPANSION – is (pause) the thing that He,
Desires! SO, The World of Simon,
Becomes a chorus, of mighty rhymin’!
Before long, he’s-in-school, and FACTS are learned,
Like 7-billion-people – and The World has turned,
But, Simon gets depressed,* and-then he might start,
Doubting THE WORLD! A World – OUT THERE!
A World HEAD! and-Simon’s-one-little-hair!?
Well, Simon loves HIS WORLD, all the characters within,
But-He’s-OK-to-lose-all-“the-extra” – people-there-have-been!
So, who gets to stay, and who’s not around?
It’s all up to Simon, for he’s no longer bound,
To be part of some world, that wants to make,
Simon, ITS Creation, when it’s HIS birthday cake,
That starts-IT and stops IT, for it’s Simon who says,
“Who’s HERE, and who’s NOT!” = Simon’s SHOW BIZ!

So, let’s just remember: YOUR WORLD IS WHAT YOU,
MAKE-IT-TO-BE! Simon says: “All-things’re-NEW!?”
Who’s “saved” then? and-who-is-“lost?”
“Meet”-with-Simon, at-any-cost,
For, perhaps-those (of) which Simon – is not aware,
Out of 7 billion – will have a blank stare,
For no one is saved, without-Simon’s-“recognition,”**
Of THAT THING’s existence! It’s-kinda-like-“perdition,”
For non-existent, non-entities, floating in mid-air,
BUT! Aren’t-we-ALL-just-THAT? Shall-we say-a-prayer?
And-pray-to-“The-Unknown-God,”*** within whom we move!
“NO, NO!” cried No One; “None-of-THIS-can-you-prove!”

Simon says: “YOU’RE NOT HERE!” (pause)
Then, you’re not?! But-Why-do-you-fear?
When, in the next moment, Simon’s gone too,
Then – SIMON D O E S N ‘ T SAY – When, Where or Who,
And THIS imaginary poem – echoes-NOT in no ear,
And-isn’t-seen-by-any-eye – So! Bye-now! HAVE NO-TEAR!
We CAN’t disappear – into non-descript light,
And no-one-(not)-even-Simon considers this (poetic) “rot,”
You’re-neither -too-cold- or-too-hot! ๐Ÿ™‚ – LUKE, [you’re] WARM!

fin โค

* – The Dark Night of The Soul!? https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dark_Night_of_the_Soul

** – At West Point, “plebes,” or first year cadets, were, essentially, non-entities! After a year’s time, the “Upper Classmen” were “introduced” to us and began to call us by our first names! Suddenly! We were RECOGNIZED!

*** – See the first part of The Book of ACTS, in The Bible, where The Apostle Paul introduces The World to The God He (Paul) “serves!”


Heart ๐Ÿ’œ

I hid my heart in a nest of roses,
Out of the sun’s way, hidden apart;
In a softer bed then the soft white snow’s is,
Under the roses, I hid my heart.
Why would it sleep not?

Why should it start,
When never a leaf of the rose-tree stirred?
What made sleep flutter his wings and part?
Only the song of a secret bird.
Lie still, I said, for the wind’s wing closes,
And mild leaves muffle the keen sun’s dart;
Lie still, for the wind on the warm seas dozes,
And the wind is unquieter yet than thou art.
Does a thought in thee still as a thorn’s wound smart?
Does the fang still fret thee of hope deferred?
What bids the lips of thy sleep disport?
Only the song of a secret bird.
The green land’s name that a charm encloses,
It was never writ in the traveller’s chart,
And sweet on its trees as the fruit that grows is,
It was never sold in the merchant’s mart.
The swallows of dreams through its dim fields dart,
And sleep’s are the tunes in its tree-tops heard;
No hound’s note wakens the wildwood hart,
Only the song of a secret bird.
In the world of dreams, I have chosen my part,
To sleep for a season and hear no word
Of true love’s truth or light love’s art,
Only the song of a secret bird.

Hummingbird Flight
Of the Rose


“WHAT DREAMS MAY COME!” December 18, 2017 (Monday)

You will never walk alone

a.k.a.: “NO!”
a.k.a.: “I Don’t Wanna Hear That – Tell Me Something Else, OK?”

a.k.a.: “Yes, Pain Comes! Do Not Worry About It – For IF There Is Too Much, THE GOOD LORD (L. O. L.) Will Make You Just Pass Out! Life Sucks, Doesn’t IT? Or, Maybe, It Is GLORIOUS BEYOND MEASURE – We Choose – To Live Or Die. Is There An Instruction Manual Around Here?”

a.k.a.: “IF I Am Sent To Hell, I Am Liable To Come Back With A Report, An Analysis And A Problem-Solution Recommendation! Dang Me! ๐Ÿ™‚ “

a.k.a.: “A Love Letter To LOVE: [Dear Love, Please Just Shut Up And Be Mushy!]”

{from a dream:} A woman is running down the street! She’s in a dream – BUT – It’s NOT COMPLETE!

She’s carrying a baby in her arms, And the baby’s dying, with no alarms!

I cry and cry and cry some more,

And let the feelings really floor

ME – Put them DEEP,

Must-avoid the stress,

Forevermore –

Switch Address!


To see


Dream, My Friend!

In THIS one, baby DOESN’T die,

The tyke grows up and learns to fly,

Yet, in the dream, results are SAD,

I AM NOT saying that they’re “bad,”

But BABY, as adult – INSANE! Beyond ALL notions of humane!

Baby learns to kill a lot – Of creatures, people –

Things get HOT!

A-serial-killer Baby Becomes! or filled-with-disease!


So, this scenario – is pretty grim! for baby AND mama –


And US and THE WORLD – This World MUST cry,

For ALL scenarios (pause)

By and by,

In This World, so sorrow filled,

Let’s take our pick – We’re ALL so willed!

We’re SO reluctant to accept – THE NOW

Because –


some how,

OCCUR – with each outcome we see!

So, IF all options are known to me,

Will I not pick the one THEY call

“2 Evils Lesser,”

I recall:

A man, a cross and BLOOD


With jeering over-some-mama’s TOT!

Feeling terror that her son, is dying UP THERE – not much fun!



“I’m SURE to rise!

We’re pawns of stuff that’s going on,

This life’s a Mystery (long pause – like an eternity maybe)


fin. โค

Pretty Wife

“AFFIRMATION LAMENTATION!” a poem a.k.a.: “Moving On!” in the series: “Mr. and Mrs. Cuddly Poo!” January 16, 2019 – Wednesday

You just keep moving, and nobody can say,
Whether (or-not) we-will-make-it – through-another bloody-day!
Oh, I’ve got me a (good) reason – to keep a-movin’ on,
To get up in the morning – to work – and mow the lawn,
SO IT CAN BE SO PRETTY – for-my-Cuddly-Poo,

A “mack truck” might just get us – or a new, strange, rare disease,
There-are-a-million wonderful-things – that-can “bring us to our knees!”
A-stray-bullet – to – the-3rd-eye – or-a-slip & fall & die;
The World is a “crap shoot,” so, who-knows!- Shall we cry,
Because we are so damned afraid, of never making through,
This day which I am in (pause) which I am in with you?
Or – shall I cry for joy, at each nuance in your face?
When I look into you eyes, I see a lot of grace!

And when I look-a-up-your-nose, I love the snot that lies,
And- that-sometimes – can dribble out – a-dribble on your thighs!
When I look inside your mouth, I see all sorts of things:
Cabbages! and-chocolate-bars – and bits of cheese it brings,
And, when I look inside your ear, the ear wax is so fine –
I lick it out with a Q-tip – and claim it all as mine!

You never know how many days – I have-left in your arms;
May I-have FOREVER? to-experience-your-charms?
OMG! What’s this? It’s oozing? A-squishy-squish-swish-swish:
I think it needs some filling! from-the-Cosmic Deep-Pie-Dish!
So, keep on moving-keep-on-grooving-swi-ggl-ing-those-hips,
And I will try for 20 MORE – (1) crunches!-or (2) some dips!*

fin โค

* – (1): flexing abdominal muscles! (2) up and down exercises: sometimes to “hit” the tricep muscles – sometimes to “hit” you “g-spot!” Sometimes both! ๐Ÿ™‚


“THE MASTER?!” a poem The master-writer-thief-and-poet – – – Wonders why more folks don’t know-it! – – – Wonders why around the globe, – – – Folks don’t gyrate – to his “strobe!” – – – Why there isn’t – “a (big) book deal,” – – – or-audiences! – who laugh and reel, – – – with-adulation, for his clever – – – Humor, insight – and-charm-forever! – – – “Well, I declare,” he says out loud! – – – “And I am never very proud!” – – – So, I wait-for-the-hour, the hour when: – – – People’ll-know, I’m-“Master-of-The-Pen!!”


“SIMPLY!” a poem about a man, singing karaoke, Wednesday ( 01/16/19) at The Blues!

A simple guy, with simply taste –
Caring-for The Human Race,
Aware of foibles, hopes and fears,
Who’s had his share – of cares and tears!
Who’s walked the highways, as a bum;
Who’s-familiar-with: The Factory’s “hum;”
Who’s been in courtrooms, in a suit,
And-in-The-Classrooms! (What “a hoot!”)
Who dresses daily, after washing,
Sings: “In The Rain,” while slightly sloshing,
And, IF-he-is-“needed,” please be succinct,
LIKE: “Can you come now?” – and I-will-think,
“Well, yes I can; I’m on my way!”
Or – “Sorry, no; I’m in a fray!”
Or – “I’ve-got a meal – on the stove,
But, once I’m through, I’ll be right ove’!”
BUT! Say it OUT; don’t HOLD IT IN,
Or-else-I’m-guilty(?)-of neglect-and-sin!!!
Just say: “I NEED YOU! Can you come?”
Do NOT-expect that this here “crumb,”
You’re-precious need – to congregate!
Or-say: “You’re-not-well?”
Or – “Go to Hell,”
‘Cause-I-can’t-read – your-immediate-need;

fin โค

* – and The Blood ain’t “blue,” and seldom green; just simple, red-blood will you glean!

INSIDER INFORMATION!!!” a poem – in the series called: “Mr. & Mrs. Cuddly Poo!”

INSIDER INFORMATION!!!” a poem – in the series called: January 15, 2019 (Tuesday)INSIDER INFORMATION!!!” a poem – in the series called: “Mr. & Mrs. Cuddly Poo!”

Outside! There is sun and wind; Inside! calm & dark,
Outside-is: so-much-activity; inside – we-like-“to park!”
And-be-so-WARM-and-safe-secure – from all the BUSY-ness,
That-inflicts this-World-of-ours! Out-there-you HAVE-TO-GUESS,
What comes next?! &-What-is-“right?” &-let’s-“Keep-up-with-The-Joneses,”
But Mr. & Mrs. Cuddly Poo – have put away their phoneses,
It’s tight &-right &-out-of-sight; they like the team called: HOOSIER,* —)
For IUHoosiers-are-the-team of choice, for those who like to cuddle, —)
And be “inside”-a-lot! Oh, yeah! A-splashing in “the puddle!” —)
It’s warm inside, like outside too – but-it’s-not so-abrasive,
Because it is so wet, so moist – and! it-can-be-“erasive!”
For-INSIDE-erases-OUTSIDE-“ouch-ies,” when-you-get-a-bump-or-scratch,
Your tender, little skin sometimes – upon some metal latch,
Which-is-on-The-Door-that-separates – OUTside! from -the-IN!
This-is-INSIDE-INFORMATION, and SHE-is-so-steeped in sin,
And HE-is-oh-quite-naughty, but that’s OK – because,
THEY RESIDE WITH JESUS! They’re TWO, but-then-there-was,
Three or more, for love hath bore – GLAD-TIDING-for-here – there is NO war,
INSIDE THESE WALLS! it’s-past-the-brush, and-spelunkers-dare – to-deep-explore,
The beauties of The Cavern Walls!
Yet, STILL – we hear all mating calls,
And they’ll finally-emerge! to greet The Sun,
Here-Mr.-&-Mrs.-Cuddly-Poo, on-green-sand-beaches-run,
Where zephys, zebras-and-unicorns – greet us all in dreams,
And rays of diamond-sun brush-wetness –
And then, IT truly gleams! ๐Ÿ™‚ – Breath-taking!

fin โค

  • a Hoosier is a native or inhabitant of Indiana, U. S. A. and is the name for the players of the Indiana University college football team! So, in essence, a hoosier – is an Indian, i.e.: someone from Indiana! How! Their “symbol” looks like a trident, or right-side-up horseshoe, pierced by a vertical shaft; it has some interesting connotations, I think! Don’t you think so

Oh Tumblr Censorial Representatives! O. M. G. No! Actually, you-know, EVERYTHING has potentially “notorious” and Community Standard violating connotations, depending upon what SPIN you put on whatever you are evaluating! Don’t you agree, Oh, Tumblr Censors?! If you are going to willy-nilly exclude some of my poetry and posts, why don’t you give some REAL REASONS for doing so? Mmmmm? Mmmmm? Comes on, now – BE FAIR, Tumblr! Be fair! ๐Ÿ™‚


“TRULY INCESTUOUS, LICENTIOUS, IMMATURE AND INAPPROPRIATE!?!” a poem Tuesday: January 15, 2019 [with apologies and thanks to Edgar Allan Poe]

Once upon a psychic reading, Edgar CAYCE* uttered greeting – to-the-ones who-are-truly-“riled,” by-(what-some-call)- “inces-tuous-activity,”
For-there-are-mothers, doing laundry – and cooking meals, while in-a-quandary – about-whether-“Junior” should be exiting, exiting! for all to see!
“Here I am now, with my laundry – to-escape some destiny!? Yet, (I’m)-still-in-“the-nest,” (pause) quite happily!”**

CAYCE said: “Sometimes, we tarry, and sometimes-caring’s-necessary – when time-has established that most women – like-to-keep-children “on their knee.”
So, sometimes THIS THING – is appropriate – and touch can be a potent opiate! I know it sounds a little strange – (pause) and-to-some: (pause) bizarre-ish-ly,
BUT(also)-bizarre-to-judge-group-dynamic and-to-do-it with-such certainty – Especially-coming-from – a-non-mommy!

So, yes (I know) I’m often hearing: That mom’s got (my) laundry, but I’m NOT reeling – over-all the-inadequacies -that-this-situation-might- just- “hatch”-in-me,
For-over all, there-are-ills prevailing? – preventing-some-ships-from-easy-sailing, BUT I-CAN’T imagine re-pri-manding Mom – for acting as Queen Bee!!
For a matriarch – is sure to park – Herself ever-joyfully,
When-she-find-eth-stove-or-washer – (pause) sitting by too casually!

What’s appropriate? Well, I don’t know! and! The longer that I “kinda” grow, I-am-convinced that moms-and-women – like to stand, quite silently,
At The Door – and wait for Buddy, to depart, so they so bloody, “Breach the walls!” and head for laundry – to-deposit – lovingly!!
A violation? Oh, maybe! (pause) But I will offer sparingly: A STAY! from any rude conviction – Judgment? I shall let-it-be!

And-I-think-that-women – going-to-Heaven, Carry with them – clothes and leaven, Hoping THERE, that-they-can-wash &-cook-&-sew-&-glow-with-glee,
And CRITICISM? Probably NOT, for any times that Sonny brought, DIRTY LAUNDRY – in for mommy, so she-could spend-time “on-her-knee!”
We all have “rolls” and some are frowned-on, such-as-“cin-namon!” maliciously! And some folks raise their eyebrows high and-critically-mutter: “Golly gee,

She spends such-time-in-the-laundry room, And in the kitchen – or at the loom, Doing housework ALL THE TIME (?) – yet SINGING! Oh, so merrily!”
There’s criticism here we see, from wayward daughters, who spitefully – Content that MOM! should “give it up,” and-just-say:”Sonny-you’re-NOT-wee!”
And, IF they don’t – is something wrong? Well, I guess, to-some – It-is-clear-ly, A-violation of-some-law! which SHOULD-BE-SET – in a-hurry!

But-perhaps-“incestuous”-belongs-with-HER, who-wants-to-“mommy”-her-chosen-“cur,” And wash his shirt with angel soap – because a smudge or two we see;
Yeah! I-know! I’m quite a dope – and – without-mommy, I-can-not-cope, BUT! “mean” it seems to me it be, to-be-such-a-critic – of-mommy,
When she has lived for many years – and, through those years, so steadfastly, She has-maintained-and-done-some-cleaning, helping-her-children, lovingly!

And now!-somewhat-older – and fairly-frail, and, in-her-“twilight,” her baby male, Wishes-comfort-for-her – for-her-soul and-mind – and bent bod-y,
And-it’s-sometimes-hard, to-tell-how-to-love-her, And express (for her) a tender cover! Perhaps it’s weak- to-tenderly, maintain-such-an-attitude – endlessly,
But years rush-on! I-am no wiser, but I-think things-go-by quite-swiftly, And most days now, with-mum-and-pop – I-consider-things – quite-gratefully!

fin. โค

* – a person who, in the 1900’s, acted as a “Channel” for health and spiritual information, which he supposedly received from “sources on The Other Side!”

** – some older children return to their homes, to assist their parents as they become older and might need some special assistance! It is called: “Care-taking!”


“X FACTOR!” a poem January 13, 2019 – Sunday

CREATIVITY glides; creativity flows;
Creativity’s “a-loose-cannon” and really never knows,
What’s coming next, but is OK with that,
And DOES have structures, within-a-mobile-“flat!”

It recognizes schedules that others like to follow,
But doesn’t (always) conform; it’s-a-bullet that is hollow,

& bounces around, skipping over hurdles,
Wondering what’s next – and watching all the turtles,

Conform to rigid scheduling, for-the-sake of the mundane,
& gets criticized a bit – for being a-little “insane!”

You don’t know where it comes from, so it is unexpected,
But – within – its shadow – – – KINGDOMS ARE ERECTED,

And then destroyed – and it don’t care,
And-it-is demonized, for being too bare,
And a little too wild – and sorta rude,
Although it doesn’t intend to be vile or crude!

Censors approach it, with torches en masse;
They wanna break the castle walls – and kick it in the ass,
And scream: “YOU CAN NOT DO THAT!” &-then-comes-its-reply:

“Have a wonderful day, y’all! Never ask me WHY!”

A little structure’s good, but-structures-are-like-The-Shabbat:
When you totally conform to them, you lose your clever Hobbit,
Who eats – food – when-he can – the kind that tastes so sweet,
And GIGGLES with excitement, at things that seem so neat,
But holds no nasty grudges and doesn’t wear a frown,
And doesn’t care about results – for-he offers you his crown,
‘Cause He don’t wanna rule – and don’t like to keep tabs,
And rather likes to walk around, rather-than-taking cabs,

But – easy does it – to-not burn out, and profiles are best kept LOW!
Take care of yourselves, Good Friends – and don’t put on a show!*

* – except when you do! fin โค


“I GOTTA GET HOME! a poem a song a state of mind Sunday: Jan. 13, 2019

From the time I left the house – ’til I made it to The Bar,
I was hangin’ with some Friends, but-I-was “wishing-on-a-star!”
‘Cause – I-was only thinkin’ of-YOU – and I was waiting-to-go HOME,
To be with You forever, in Your “Pleasure Dome!”
Yeah! I know there’re other things – that I’m ‘spose-to-do-in-Life,
And other places I need to be, {I guess!} not-always with my Wife!!!
But, I hope, I do – upon That Star,
That I can come-home-soon, a-speedin’ – in-My-Car,
Yet, I’m-gonna-be careful!-’cause-I-really-don’t-care-to-crash,
I’m so crazy-in-love-with-You, (that) I’ll-surely-win-THE-LOVERS’-DASH! โค

fin โค

(An Oath wrtitten during the Dawn Meditation)

(An Oath wrtitten during the Dawn Meditation)

Aiwaz! Confirm my troth with thee ! my will inspire
With secret sperm of subtle, free, creating Fire!
Mould thou my very flesh as Thine, renew my birth
In childhood merry as divine, enchenated earth!
Dissolve my rapture in Thine own, a sacred slaugther
Whereby to capture and atone the soul of water!
Fill thou my mind with gleaming Thought intense and rare
To One refined, outflung to naught, the Word of Air!
Most, bridal bound, my quintessentil Form thus freeing
From self, be found one Selfhood blent in Spirit Being.

Watch out for power๐Ÿค”

Watch out for power,
for its avalanche can bury you,
snow, snow, snow, smothering your mountain.
Watch out for hate,
it can open its mouth and youโ€™ll fling yourself out
to eat off your leg, an instant leper.
Watch out for friends,
because when you betray them,
as you will,
they will bury their heads in the toilet
and flush themselves away.
Watch out for intellect,
because it knows so much it knows nothing
and leaves you hanging upside down,
mouthing knowledge as your heart
falls out of your mouth.
Watch out for games, the actorโ€™s part,
the speech planned, known, given,
for they will give you away
and you will stand like a naked little boy,
pissing on your own child-bed.

Watch out for love
(unless it is true,
and every part of you says yes including the toes),
it will wrap you up like a mummy,
and your scream wonโ€™t be heard
and none of your running will end.

Love? Be it man. Be it woman.
It must be a wave you want to glide in on,
give your body to it, give your laugh to it,
give, when the gravelly sand takes you,
your tears to the land. To love another is something
like prayer and canโ€™t be planned, you just fall
into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.

Special person,
if I were you Iโ€™d pay no attention
to admonitions from me,
made somewhat out of your words
and somewhat out of mine.
A collaboration.
I do not believe a word I have said,
except some, except I think of you like a young tree
with pasted-on leaves and know youโ€™ll root
and the real green thing will come.

Let go. Let go.
Oh special person,
possible leaves,
this typewriter likes you on the way to them,
but wants to break crystal glasses
in celebration,
for you,
when the dark crust is thrown off
and you float all around
like a happened balloon.

Black Desire

โ€œREMISSION!โ€ a poem, dedicated to: Rachel Taylor, singer/songwriter extraordinaire! a.k.a.: โ€œOne Heart!โ€ 11/26/18 – Monday

Itโ€™s a roller-coaster-ride, this game of life;

Itโ€™ll rock ya – and โ€œrealโ€ ya, but, in-the morning light,

When you finally-reach (pause) The Break of Day,

And-youโ€™re-groggy – and dreamy, I-hope youโ€™ll say:

โ€œI can do another! Just gotta-โ€˜wake-up,โ€™

I-know-Iโ€™m-in-remission!โ€ [Ask-your-coffee-cup]

โ€œIs it worth-the-effort – to keep on going!โ€

โ€œYes!-youโ€™re-rich-and-dark (pause) and-seeds,* weโ€™re-sowing,

And-weโ€™ll-inspire – The-World – to-make the FLIP,

And, itโ€™s true – each-one-of-us – may-be-just-a-blip,

On The Screen of Life, that seems so immense,

But each-blip-can-inspire – other blips off The Fence,

Of despair and lethargic – machination,

LOVE is contagious! And each generation,

Fights-for-its-life – to offer (all) the-rest

A chance to shine, despite any test!

So, Iโ€™m hanging on – with Rachel in the seat,

Of this roller coaster! Sheโ€™s next to me,

And, together-we-can-turn – this bloody-life-around,

And discover One Heart! – where remission is found! ๐Ÿ™‚

fin โค

* – coffee (and otherwise!)


โ€œI am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.โ€ from “Jane Eyre” by Charlotte Bronte โ€” British Novelist born on April 21, 1816, died on March 31, 1855

Frederick Carl Frieseke (1874-1939) ~ The Birdcage, ca. 1910,


Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten loreโ€”
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door
“‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber doorโ€”
Only this and nothing more”