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Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, 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, From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,
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| "Lenore rhymes with 'Whore'. | |
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For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore, Nameless here forevermore.
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