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*[[Sea turtle|sea turtles]]
 
*[[Sea turtle|sea turtles]]
 
*and of course, [[Pinniped|seals]]
 
*and of course, [[Pinniped|seals]]
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and don't forget [[Raven|Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,]]
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Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
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While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
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As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
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Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
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And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
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Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
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From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
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For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
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            Nameless here for evermore.
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And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
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Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
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So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
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{{" '}}Tis some {{not a typo|visiter}} entreating entrance at my chamber door—
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Some late {{not a typo|visiter}} entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
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            This it is and nothing more."
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Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
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"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
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But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
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And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
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That I scarce was sure I heard you"—here I opened wide the door;—
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            Darkness there and nothing more.
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Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
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Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
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But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
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And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
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This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"—
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            Merely this and nothing more.
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Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
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Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
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"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
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Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
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Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
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            'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
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Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
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In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
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Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
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But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
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Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
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            Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
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Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
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By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
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"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
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Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
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Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
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            Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
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Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
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Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
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For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
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Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
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Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
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            With such name as "Nevermore."
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But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
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That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
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Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
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Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before—
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On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
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            Then the bird said "Nevermore."
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Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
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"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store
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Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
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Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
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Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
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            Of 'Never—nevermore'."
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But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
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Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
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Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
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Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
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What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
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            Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
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This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
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To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
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This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
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On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
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But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
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            She shall press, ah, nevermore!
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Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
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Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
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"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
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Respite—respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore;
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Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
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            Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
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"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
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Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
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Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
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On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
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Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!"
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            Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
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"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
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By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
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Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
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It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
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Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
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            Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
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"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting—
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"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
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Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
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Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
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Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
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            Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
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And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
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On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
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And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
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And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
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And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
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            Shall be lifted—nevermore!
    
==animal articles (expanded)==
 
==animal articles (expanded)==
SGuySMW
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