A Spot of POE

Once upon a midday theory, while I wondered spry and cheery,

Over many faint yet sprightly visions of natural lore -

While I gazed, awake and happy, slowly sounds of bright birds flapping,

As of someone gently clapping, clapping at the wondrous awe

"'Tis something spiritual," I surmised, "Clapping at the wondrous awe" -

At this I smiled in splendorous awe -

Oh, distinctly I remember it was in the warm and soothing November;

And each living spark or ember danced gracefully within the fire.

Eagerly I wished to borrow, - a guitar until the morrow

For my guitar strings broken sorrow - sorrow of no musical score -

For a rare and radiant maiden came a tapping at my chamber door

Nameless here forever more.