Page 95 - The Raven

without a doctor's licence bled the
chief vein of my life? Alas, my
children, my children! my hope now
taken from me, my light now
darkened, my joy now poisoned, my
support now lost! You are stabbed by
the sword, I am pierced by grief; you
are drowned in blood, I in tears. Alas
that, to give life to an uncle, you have
slain your mother! For I am no
longer able to weave the thread of
my days without you, the fair
counterpoises of the loom of my
unhappy life. The organ of my voice
must be silent, now that its bellows
are taken away. O children,
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