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Ash
03-25-2010, 10:13 PM
This is a version of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven" I wrote over on the Minecraft forums, where my name is Nazzer. Tell me what you think.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I crafted weak and weary,
Over many a dark and curious workbench of forgotten ore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my fortress door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my fortress door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying pig wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my mine surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost gold ore -
For the rare and radiant rock whom the angels named gold ore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each darkened tunnel
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my fortress door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my fortess door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Zombie, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was crafting, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my fortress door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no day cycle,
And the only words there spoken were the whispered words, `gold ore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words, `Gold ore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the fortress turning, all my coal within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my hearts be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the pigs and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the sand blocks, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately spider of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or zombie, perched above my fortress door -
Perched upon a bust of Saint Notch just above my fortress door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this arachnid beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy width be a block and wider, thou,' I said, `art sure no hider.
Ghastly grim and ancient spider wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Minecraftian shore!'
Quoth the spider, `No more ore.'

Much I marvelled this black arachnid to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bug above his fortress door -
Bug or beast above the sculptured bust above his fortress door,
With such 3 names as `No more ore.'

But the spider, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
Those three words, as if his soul in that one phrase he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a legjoint then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have burnt before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as zombies have burnt before.'
Then the bug said, `No more ore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his mines one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his fort that melancholy burden bore
Of "No more, no more ore."'

But the spider still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a crafted seat in front of bug and bust and door;
Then, upon the gray cloth sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bug of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bug of yore
Meant in screeching `No More Ore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the mob whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's gray cloth lining that the torch-light gloated o'er,
But whose gray cloth crafted lining with the torch-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of gold ore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost gold ore!'
Quoth the spider, `No more ore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bug or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this random land gen'rated -
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 spider, `No more ore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bug or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted tunnel through whom angels veined Gold ore-
Clasp a rare and darkened tunnel, through whom angels veined Gold ore?'
Quoth the spider, `No more ore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bug or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Minecraftian shore!
Leave no white string 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 spider, `No more ore.'

And the spider, never jumping, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Saint Notch just above my fortress door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the torch-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall find there's - no more ore!

Zed
03-26-2010, 01:15 PM
That's awesome. Skilfully adapted.

mariozaphead
04-23-2013, 11:21 AM
:D:D:D:D:D:D:Dthis is a great piece of work i love minecraft so this poem is awesome for me