'Tis the season of ghosts and goblins and things that go bump in the night. It only seems fitting to bring out some Edgar Allan Poe. One of his most famous poems is "The Raven." As it is a long poem, I've only included the first two stanzas and the last. It's well worth seeking out and reading the rest if you've never read it.
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 at my chamber door.
"T'is some visiter," I muttered "tapping at my chamber door--
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distincty I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;--vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Lenore--
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore--
Nameless here for everymore.
And 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 lamp-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 be lifted--nevermore!
~Edgar Allan Poe