(Apologies to Edgar. The characters of Ruroni Kenshin are the property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and
all other legitimate copyright holders.
Keep tongue firmly planted in cheek at all times until the end of the ride. Don't hurt me. Please.)

Once upon a midnight dreary, when I wandered weak and weary
through many an illustrated volume of ruroni lore
while I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping
as of someone gently rapping, rapping at the dojo door.
"Tis-some visitor" I muttered "tapping at the dojo door
- only this and nothing more"

Ah, distinctly I would find, it was in the Meiji time
and each separate glowing bit of pine cast it's ghost upon the floor
Eagerly I wished for morrow, vainly I had sought to borrow
from some scrolls surcease from sorrow, sorrow for my Tomoe
for the maiden Tomoe whom the gods adore
and nameless here forevermore

And the silken, sad fey rustling, kimonos from the faded day
Thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before
So that now, to the beating of my heart I stood repeating
"Tis some visitor entreating entrance at the dojo door"
"Some late visitor at the dojo door
- this is it and nothing more"

Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer
"sir or madam-dono, gomen ne, I do implore"
"but that fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping
and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at the dojo door
that scarce I heard you "- and here I slid wide the dojo door
- darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing
Doubting dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken and the stillness gave no token
And the only word there spoken, whispered "Tomoe?" and for
I whispered and an echo murmured "Tomoe" to my ears it bore
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the dojo turning, all my soul within me burning
Soon I again I heard a tapping something louder than before.
"oro.." said I "oro, that is something at the shojo lattice;"
"let me see, then what there is, and this mystery explore"
"let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore -
tis the wind and nothing more"

Open there I flung the screens when, with graceful swirl and silent preen
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore
Not the least obeisance made he, not a minute stopped or stayed he,
But with mein of Lord or Geisha, rested on my futoned floor
Graceful on the polished wood, upon my futoned floor-
Rested, graceful, and nothing more.

Then ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling
By the calm and pale politeness of the countenance he wore
"Though thy hair be shorn, not shaven, dreams of silence, heart not craven"
"Lovely grim and pallid raven wand'ring from the night's far shore.."
"tell me what thy lordly name is on the night's plutonian shore.."
Quoth the Raven "Never.. more."

Much I marveled this surly fowl to hear discourse so poorly
Though his answer little meaning, little relevancy bore
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever was blessed with seeing him upon their futoned floor
Bird or beast draped back, lithe upon the futoned floor
With such a name as "Never… more?"

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that cushioned spot, spoke only
That small phrase as if his soul in that small phrase he did outpour
Nothing farther then he spoke, the silken hair I longed to stroke
Till I scarcely, lightly joked "Other friends have flow before…"
"On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.."
Then the raven said "Never.. more?"

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken
"Doubtless" said I "what he utters is his only stock and store"
"caught from some unhappy master whom Edo's end disaster
followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore
till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
of Never…. Never.. more.."

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling
Straight I joined him on the cushions, pretty bird upon my futoned floor
Then, upon the futon sinking, our mouths began their linking
Fancies took my thinking what this ominous bird of yore
What this grim and lovely, dark and pale and ominous bird of yore
Mean in murmuring "Never.. more?"

This my mind engaged in pondering, but my thoughts I found were wandering
To the one whose jade-green eyes now burned cooly at my very core
This and more I lay divining with my head at ease reclining
On futon's cushioned lining, the Raven's form revealed some more
Soon I was fair pining, to remove the rags he wore
And hear his cries of "Never.. more!"

Then, with his moans the air grew dense, perfumed sweeter as if incense
Burned by spirits who drifted light across the polished floor
"You.." I said. "what gods hath lent thee, by these spirits done have sent thee.."
"Respite - from the guilt of Tomoe and more?"
"Your soft cries to comfort, assuage my guilt therefore?"
Quoth the Raven: "Never…….more?"

"Damn you" said I "demon thing, damn you still, beggar or king…"
"Sent by hell or tempest tossed thee here ashore.."
"Lonely yet all undaunted, in this rebuilt land enchanted
"in my heart by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore"
"Is my love within you? Tell me.. tell me, I implore…."
Quoth the raven, sadly, "Never….more?"

"Damn you" said I "demon thing, damn you still, beggar or king…"
"Even as you bend below me, sweet flesh I would crave more.."
"Tell this soul with sorrow given, if within the distant heaven.."
"it shall see the maiden Tomoe whom angels do adore"
I cried and filled him and his breath moaned out once more
Quoth the raven "NEVER! More?"

"Be that our sign of parting, lovely bird" I sighed, upstarting
"Get thee back into the tempest, and the night's plutonian shore…
"Leave no sign or token, of this no words will be spoken
"And though my loneliness has been broken, leave the cushion on the floor
"Release your hold upon my heart, and take thy form out from my door
Quoth the raven "Never……..more?"

And the Raven, never fitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
With porcelain face, serving tea upon the polished floor
And his eyes have all the seeming of a shadow woke from dreaming
And the sunlight upon him streaming throws his shadow cross the floor
And my soul from out that shadow, falling soft across the floor,
Will be lonely…. Nevermore…