But the raven, sitting lonely on the 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.'
Mick Reasor
Gouache on paper
2.5 x 3.5 inches
Gouache on paper
2.5 x 3.5 inches
Enlarged
1 comment:
YeeAH!
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