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Altitude: 0 sous le niveau de la mer
Région:
Pays-Bas > Zuid-Holland
Type de boite: Votre cache
Taille: Très grande
État:
Ready for Search
Cachée le: 24-05-2017
Date de création: 24-05-2017
Date de publication: 24-05-2017
Dernière mise à jour: 02-03-2021 
6x Trouvé 
0x déplacée
0 km
0x Non Trouvée 
0 notes 
7 observateurs 
57 visiteurs 
4 x notation 
Évalué comme: Bon
1 x recommandé
Attributs de cache
Description
NL
Find me, and tell me .... Who wrote this poem? (ore send it by E-mail, you will recieve the logcode in return)
Zoek mij en vertel me wie dit gedicht heeft geschreven? ( Of stuur me de naam per e-mail, je ontvangt dan de logcode)
The Raven.
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have gone before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed by an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
Once more on the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert isle enchanted-
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven stretched above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in 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."
Now 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 lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Will be lifted- nevermore!
Indices supplémentaires
Entrées du journal:
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