Still beside that dreary water
⁠Stood beneath the cold moon's 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 life would pass away.