A Bird's-Eye View

'Croak, croak, croak,'     Thus the Raven spoke,     Perched on his crooked tree     As hoarse as hoarse could be.     Shun him and fear him,     Lest the Bridegroom hear him;     Scout him and rout him     With his ominous eye about him.     Yet, 'Croak, croak, croak,'     Still tolled from the oak;     From that fatal black bird,     Whether heard or unheard:     'O ship upon the high seas,     Freighted with lives and spices,     Sink, O ship,' croaked the Raven:     'Let the Bride mount to heaven.'     In a far foreign land,     Upon the wave-edged sand,     Some friends gaze wistfully     Across the glittering sea.     'If we could clasp our sister,'     Three say, 'now we have missed her!'     'If we could kiss our daughter!'     Two sigh across the water.     Oh, the ship sails fast     With silken flags at the mast,     And the home-wind blows soft;     But a Raven sits aloft,     Chuckling and choking,     Croaking, croaking, croaking: -     Let the beacon-fire blaze higher;     Bridegroom, watch; the Bride draws nigher.     On a sloped sandy beach,     Which the spring-tide billows reach,     Stand a watchful throng     Who have hoped and waited long:     'Fie on this ship, that tarries     With the priceless freight it carries.     The time seems long and longer:     O languid wind, wax stronger;' -     Whilst the Raven perched at ease     Still croaks and does not cease,     One monotonous note     Tolled from his iron throat:     'No father, no mother,     But I have a sable brother:     He sees where ocean flows to,     And he knows what he knows, too.'     A day and a night     They kept watch worn and white;     A night and a day     For the swift ship on its way:     For the Bride and her maidens      - Clear chimes the bridal cadence -     For the tall ship that never     Hove in sight for ever.     On either shore, some     Stand in grief loud or dumb     As the dreadful dread     Grows certain though unsaid.     For laughter there is weeping,     And waking instead of sleeping,     And a desperate sorrow     Morrow after morrow.     Oh, who knows the truth,     How she perished in her youth,     And like a queen went down     Pale in her royal crown:     How she went up to glory     From the sea-foam chill and hoary,     From the sea-depth black and riven     To the calm that is in Heaven?     They went down, all the crew,     The silks and spices too,     The great ones and the small,     One and all, one and all.     Was it through stress of weather,     Quicksands, rocks, or all together?     Only the Raven knows this,     And he will not disclose this. -     After a day and year     The bridal bells chime clear;     After a year and a day     The Bridegroom is brave and gay:     Love is sound, faith is rotten;     The old Bride is forgotten: -     Two ominous Ravens only     Remember, black and lonely.