poetry

Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden.
- T S Eliot

This is perhaps one of those piecese of poetry that I genuinely like. The Raven was written by Edgar Allen Poe, the story teller. The scary story teller. He wrote for his wife Virginia Poe, who died after a long suffering. Some say he accelerated her death in order to publish this poem. Here we go:

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
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 door—
Only this, and nothing more."
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