Dire Wolf... the poem

[Krug]

http://slate.msn.com/id/2087825/

 

[Zhure]

I expected it to be something along the lines of ...

Dire wolves.
How do I love thee?
Let me count the ARGHHHHHHHH

 

[alsih2o]

when i awoke
the dire wolf
six hundred pounds of sin
was staring at my window
all i said was
"come on in"
don't murder me
i beg of you don't murder me.
pleee-ease don't murder me
no, no, no, no

*alsih2o stops posting to do little grateful dance around the room*

o.k., i am back, here is the whole thing-

In the timbers to fennario, the wolves are running round,
The winter was so hard and cold, froze ten feet ’neath the ground.
Don’t murder me, I beg of you, don’t murder me. please, don’t murder me.

I sat down to my supper, ’twas a bottle of red whisky,
I said my prayers and went to bed, that’s the last they saw of me.
Don’t murder me, I beg of you, don’t murder me. please, don’t murder me.

When I awoke, the dire wolf, six hundred pounds of sin,
Was grinning at my window, all I said was "come on in".
Don’t murder me, I beg of you, don’t murder me. please, don’t murder me.

The wolf came in, I got my cards, we sat down for a game.
I cut my deck to the queen of spades, but the cards were all the same.
Don’t murder me, I beg of you, don’t murder me. please, don’t murder me.

In the backwash of fennario, the black and bloody mire,
The dire wolf collects his dues, while the boys sing ’round the fire.
Don’t murder me, I beg of you, don’t murder me. please, don’t murder me.
No, no, no don’t murder me. I beg of you,
Don’t murder me. please, don’t murder me.

 

[Zhure]

Once in Faerun so dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint volume of forgotten realmsian lore -

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a rapping,

As of some teeth gently tapping - tapping at my chamber door.

"'Tis some werewolf," I muttered, "scraping at my chamber door -

Only this and nothing more."



Ah, distinctly I remember, as I stared at the pale fire tender,

And each separate dying ember wrought its shade upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow

From my tomes surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Elmore -

For the rare and radiant painter whom the angels name Elmore -

Nameless here for evermore.





And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple dragon

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 werewolf entreating entrance at my chamber door -

Some late lycanthrope 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 tapping,

And so faintly you came rapping - scrapping 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 that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal 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, "Elmore!" -

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Elmore! -

Merely this and nothing more.



Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a rapping, 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 wolfen of the saintly days of yore.

Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -

Perched upon a bust of Elminster just above my chamber door -

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.




Then this ebony wolf 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 canine wandering from the Nightly shore -

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Abyssal shore!"

Quoth the Dire Wolf, "Nevermore."



Much I marvelled this ungainly beast 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 wolf above this chamber door -

Beast or lupus upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as "Nevermore."



But the Wolf, 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 toast then he did butter -

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 wolf 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 bard the melacholy burden bore

Of 'Never-nevermore.'"



But the Dire Wolf still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of wolf and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to thinking

Fancy unto fancy, linking what this ominous beast of yore -

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous wolf of yore

Meant in howling "Nevermore."



This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the dog 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 lamp-light gloated o'er,

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,

He shall press, ah, nevermore!



Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Ghaele Elder whose foot-falls tinkled onto the tufted floor.

"Wretch," I cried, "thy Deity hath lent thee - by these Celestials he hath sent thee

Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Elmore!

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Elmore!"

Quoth the Dire Wolf, "Nevermore."



"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if wolf 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 Dire Wolf, "Nevermore."





"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil - prophet still, if wolf or devil!

By that heavens that bend above us - by that Deities we both adore -

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted painter whom the archons name Elmore.

Clasp a rare and radiant painter whom the archons name Lenore."

Quoth the Dire Wolf, "Nevermore."



"Be that word our sign of parting, wolvish fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting -

"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!

Leave no black fur as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!

Take thy fangs from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"

Quoth the Dire Wolf, "Nevermore."



And the Dire Wolf, never flitting, still is sitting - still is sitting

On the pallid bust of a Paladin just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a Baazetu that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light 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!