Once upon a mid-day dreary, while I slaved, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious spreadsheet of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my cubical door. " 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my cubical door; Only this, and nothing more

Back into the cubical turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before, "Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice. Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore. Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore. " 'Tis the UPS guy, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Balloonicorn, 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

And the Balloonicorn, 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!