Once upon a midnight dreary,
As I pondered, weak and weary,

The night was grim, and all was damp.
Swarms of fly-filled insects surround my lamp,

And out there, the trees stood like Halloween ghosts,
Waiting to strike, standing lightly on the dust.

The clouds shine; Zeus was trying out his new lamp.
His matchsticks light the heavens, land, and swamp.

The gray-bearded, unsmiling Moon shone gleefully.
My big head watching it, tired and weary.

My head stuck back into the window hole,
And at first, it fell on a big bowl.

A friend lay snoring up the bed,
And I lay on the cool ground.

Strange, lonely sounds of the dark
Rent the air; they left their mark on my mind.

This night, cold, quiet, and uncaring of its appearance,
And all I had as a pillow were those books.

I thought wildly, letting my mind wander,
Minding not the quick wind and her asunder.

But if I were asked to let be,
This night, what gifts God gave me,

The disturbing slow-speed lamplight moth,
Or the cold winds this strange night brought?