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Once upon a evening dreary, while I browsed tumblr, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious post of forgotten lore—
While I scrolled, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my mental door.
“Seeking help comes a stranger, tapping at my mental door—
Only this and nothing more.
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak November;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my decks surcease of sorrow—sorrow that i was deeply bored—
For the common and oft felt burden of my soul being quite bored—
A burden that strikes me evermore.
And the gentle, sad, uncertain feeling there of sorrow softly lurking
Stilled me—filled me with a burning need that I had felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I sat repeating
“I will help the stranger entreating entrance at my mental door—
Help the frighted stranger entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
That I'll do and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my mental door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there, an internal war.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Hearing echoes of the dreams that I had often dreamed before;
But the silence was soon broken and the stillness gave no token,
And the only words there spoken was a sorrowful, “No more.”
“Wait!” I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words, “No more!”—
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into myself all turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again conscience a tapping, somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely there is something I can do to aid here;
Let me see, then, what there might be, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
I’ll help a little and nothing more!”
Open here I flung the floodgates, letting fall the full and strong weight,
Of my stately rote learned rhetoric, spoken e’er so oft before ;
Not the least obeisance made I; not a minute stopped or stayed I;
But, with abandon in a tone wry, worked my way to darkness core—
Perched upon the shores of Styx, sitting in a soul quite sore—
Sat sweet Angel, there ashore.
Then this darkened soul beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the wry sarcasm in the face of sorrow that she bore,
“Though your pain be all too brazen, you,” I said, “are never craven,
In seeking out some helpful haven wandering from this darkening shore—
Tell me now, how long you suffered, sitting here on Stygian shores?”
Quoth sweet Angel, “Forevermore.”
Much I marvelled at this gentle lady’s pain here spoke so plainly,
And the answer given to the depth of sorrow that she bore;
For I cannot help agreeing that few living human beings
Had survived the cursed feelings, the sorrows deep and vast she stored—
Few people had survived the feelings that her countenance had worn
As she’d stated, “Forevermore.”
But sweet Angel, sitting lonely on her bed, now spoke only
Of her intents, as if her soul in dread intention did outpour.
Nothing further then she uttered—causing me a horrored shudder—
As she scarcely more than muttered “Hold my hand and reassure—
On the morrow I will have left here, as many times I’ve tried before.
Gone to sleep Forevermore.”
Startled at the heart so broken revealed by this so bluntly spoken,
“Wait,” said I, “I know your soul is filled with sorrow deeply sore
Caught before the vicious she-beast that on your mind did cruelly feast
Left with nothing but the pain soured, till your heart can hold no more—
Till the boundaries of your Hope hold melancholy and nothing more
Seeming then Forevermore’.”
So this Angel all beguiling all my fancy into staying,
To hold her hand as she drifted cross the bounds of Stygian shores
As I held her slowly sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking I could pull her back before—
She pressed deep and went too far, that I might pull her back before
She crossed the Styx Forevermore.
Thus I sat engaged in pressing, every syllable expressing
To the Angel’s fiery pain that burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat designing, as I felt her fast declining
To Hades darkness fast aligning as her sorrows gloated o’er,
Her breathing softly now expiring, all her sorrow gloating o’er,
As she faded forevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer.
Burning my eyes with tears that fell a-tinkling to my parlor floor.
“Please,” I cried, “your ear just lend now—it will get better, this I do vow
I beg you stay your hand please somehow, stop and talk with me some more!”
“No,” said she, with furrowed brow, “soon my wings will spread and soar,
Gone beyond forevermore.”
She fell silent, and I faltered, pained that I had surely lost her,
I stood and paced, my heart resigned, as I spat and cursed and swore.
Desolate and dearly daunted, soul wrung out and exhausted—
In my home by Horror haunted—my demonic patrons I implored.
“Send her back to me I beg you!” And they heard my heartfelt roar
I heard them murmur, Forevermore.
“Damn” she whispered, sounding tired, “seems that I have not expired.”
I thanked my patrons, falling down and murmuring prayers into the floor.
“Please sweet Angel, stay here with me, please don’t leave, please don’t dismiss me.”
And then my heart leapt up when she, spoke the word I needed sore,
Spoke the word that seemed to kiss me, the word that eased my heart so sore
Quoth my Angel, “Forevermore.”
There was a period of of fumbling, as she smiled at my mumbling
“I have too many souls I adore, I cannot take partners anymore.”
Across my lap she draped herself, her smile bemused as it compelled
All my defenses o’erwhelmed, I said, “Well and then, what’s one more?
There’s room in my heart for another, another one I’ve fallen for.
Will you be mine forevermore?”
And my Angel, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
Smiling, laughing, cross my lap, in pain but rarely any more.
And as I cradle her in seeming, I have the feeling that I’m dreaming,
All the love that’s from her streaming, a sweet and gentle close rapport.
And my soul from out that shadow fills up with that sweet rapport
As we say, “Forevermore.”