typeracer

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, by the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, 'Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, 'art sure no craven, ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore - tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!' Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore.'