and falling, it was rain, but having fallen, it was blood.
Blurb
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;-- vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow-- sorrow for the lost Lenore-- For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-- Nameless here for evermore.