University of Virginia Library

THE RAVEN.

I am a raven, and live alone;
When my old woman's abroad
You never see me with any one;
I hate intruders near my abode.
I live for an hundred years or more,
And in that time what changes I see!
Why, an old man that's full fourscore
Is a mere child compared with me!
I've watched and seen a tall tree grown,
Then stood upon its branches high;
I've seen the woodman cut it down,
I know he now doth in it lie.
That small twig they buried him in,
I knew well in the days of old;
Knew when it scarcely reached my chin,
And wasn't three inches deep in mould.
In it I built, and reared my young,
Watched years of flowers pass away,
Saw all the birds die off that sung;
For years but seem to me a day.
Old men white as hoary rime,
I have seen dandled on the knee;
Have croaked to please them many a time,
Before they knew their A, B, C.
An hundred years is long to live,
Up in a tree so cold and high;
And often the shivers it does give me
When I haven't a thing about me dry.
Though we are old and often cold,
Neither blankets nor coals we get;
So I say, “Old woman, our wings let's fold,
And in spite of the weather,
Still cling together,
We've lived too long to fret.
We are not what we were of yore,
It takes longer to fly to yon cliff;
We can't do what we have done before,
Our joints are too old and stiff.
But we have been happy and blest,
In the summers long gone by,
When we watched our young in their nest,
And fed them, and taught them to fly.
Though they didn't all behave well to me:
I've had to fight with Ralph my son,
'Cause he would build in my old tree;
But I soon made the rascal run,
When I poked his cheek
With my horny beak—
He was forced to eat sop for a whole long week.”
Croak, croak, croak,
The thought of it makes me choke.
I wish my old wife had a warm cloak—
But I am growing too hoarse to speak.