Still beside that dreary water
Stood he 'neath the cold moon ray
Thinking on the deed of slaughter
On his heart that darkly lay

Soft the voice that broke his dreaming
Stealing through the silent air;
Yet, before, the raven's screaming
He had heard regardless there

Once his name was sweetly uttered
Then the echo died away
But each pulse in horror fluttered
As the lifе would pass away