A pox on this devil-possessed bird and its evil goal!
This unforthright haunter of my space and my soul.
This slow witted student of naught to whom in vain
I sought to teach, to reach beyond its disdain.
But the one worded raven would not be taught...
And in the end was killed and stuffed, bearable no more.
In its stead an echo in a shell and a canary were bought.
The canary now sings as it sits atop the stuffed raven,
Atop the placid bust of Pallas, atop my chamber door,
Far stranded from seashore
the shell whispers its echo again and again-