How Good's Your Memory? Game

...and the echo came, Lenore, only this and nothing more.

My way of marking, edgar. Are we to finish The Raven before we move on?

Yeah.

ok, I'll have to stand in front of the mirror and coax my brain to produce. I still have some winds of war in there.

Deep into that darkness peering'
Long I stood there, doubting, fearing,
Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before

In sixth grade we all had to stand in front of the class, individually,and recite this (along with a number of other pomes over the course of the year) Thanks for the memory, I think I'll go crawl under my desk now.

Acquiunk--

And if you gambled just-a-bit, you didn't have to make special time to memorize the po'try--the recitations of classmates engraved the lines in your brain.

acquiunk,

Damn. We got to get the raven on the pallid bust of pallas just above the chamber door. Let's see.

Something like,
As I stood there wondering, fearing
All my soul within me searing
In there stepped a stately raven
From the night's plutonian shore.

And with many a flirt and flutter........

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before
Surely, said I, that is something at my window lattis
Let me see then what thereat is and this mystery explore
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore
It is the wind and nothing more
Here I opened wide the shutter
When, in there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore
Not the least obeisance made he
Not a minute stopped or stayed he
But with many a flirt and flutter
Perched upon the pallid bust of Pallas
Above my chamber door
Perched and sat and nothing more
Thou art no craven

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 somone gently rapping,
Rapping at my chamber door.
It is some late visitor, I muttered,
entreating entrance at my chamber door
This it is and nothing more

Ah, distinctly I remember,
It was in that bleak December,
That each seperate dying ember
Wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I sought the morrow,
Vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books, surcease of sorrow,
Sorrow for the lost Lenore,
For that rare and radiant maiden,
Whom the angels name Lenore -
Nameless here forevermore.

But the silken sad uncertain
Rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before,
So that now, to still the beating
Of my heart I kept repeating,
It is some late visitor, entreating entrance at my chamber, this it is and nothing more.
Here I opened wide the door -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Long I stood there, fearing, doubting,
Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
But the stillness lay unbroken
And the silence gave no token
And the only word there spoken
Was the whispered word "Lenore."
This I whispered and an echo murmered back the word Lenore
Only this and nothing more

Back into the chamber turning,
All my soul within me burning.
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
Surely said I that is something at my window lattice
Let me see then what thereat is and this mystery explore
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore
It is the wind and nothing more
Here I opened wide the shutter
When, with many a flirt and flutter
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore
Not the least obiesance made he
Not a minute stopped or stayed he,
But with mien of lord or lady
Perched upon the pallid bust of Pallis above my chamber door
Perched and sat and nothing more
Thou art no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven
Tell me what thy name is on the night's plutonion shore
Quoth the raven
Nevermore

Anybody know the last stanza?

Grrrrrr, edgar. I can't get into that remembrance.

And just where is CDK?

CDK would have aced it.

I have this much:


Is there balm in Giliad?
Quoth the raven, Nevermore


Respite and nepenthe

Thy god has lent thee



Wretch, I cried


Get thee back into the night's plutonion shore
Take thy beak from out my heart
And take thy form from off my door
But raven, never flittiing
Never flitting still is sitting
On the pallid bust above my chamber door
While my form that lies upon the floor shall be lifted
Nevermore

Nah, he would have cheated.

I know that the last verse goes something like:

And the raven never flitting,
Still is sitting; still is sitting on the pallid bust of Pallas,
Just above my chamber door.

And my soul
Shall be lifted
From the floor,
Nevermore.

Yikes. Poor old Edgars. De boat of youse

Tomorrow I will call it quits and start a new subject.

Awright. Everybody failed. I searched The Raven and present it to end the first game.

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 someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."


Ah, distinctly 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 name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.


And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
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 chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."


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


Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.


Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something 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 heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."


Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, 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 lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.


Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."


Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl 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 bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."


But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."


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 songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."


But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, 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 velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!


Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"


"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
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 raven, "Nevermore."


"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird 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 maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."


"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume 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 raven, "Nevermore."


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 lamplight 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!

I wait here for a new subject.

The Second Game will be easier for some, just as difficult for others. Lyrics this time. Topic: Desolation Row, by Bob Dylan.


I will start it off, but just enough to get it started. I think I may be able to complete this one, but maybe not.

They're selling postcards of the hanging
They are painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
And the riot squads they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As lady and I look out tonight on
Desolation Row

Sorry edgar, I don't know this one at all.