A rose is a rose

Augh! Reading comments on Livejournal communities leads me on these little random jaunts where I read other people's journals. Tonight, linked from 's journal: The random website poetry generator! The Raven, regenerated... Edgar Allan Poe: The bust above my soul in 1845] Once upon the angels named Lenore For the grave and forget this soul in front of each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the beating of some unhappy master whom the whispered word, `he did outpour. Nothing more. Ah, nevermore! And stern decorum of yore Meant in 1845] Once upon the nightly shore Tell me see then, what this soul hath lent thee back into the raven, Edgar Allan Poe: The stillness broken by these angels named Lenore? Quaff, oh quaff this desert land enchanted On the only this, lost Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff oh quaff this I muttered, `tapping somewhat louder than muttered `tapping somewhat louder than before. ` On the lost Lenore Merely this and the lost Lenore Merely this grim, ungainly, fowl whose velvet violet lining with seeing bird or devil! Whether tempter sent, thee here for we cannot help agreeing that shadow that is on the velvet violet lining that darkness peering, long I surely said I, ` nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there is there and nothing further then the angels named Lenore? Quoth the seeming of bird above my sad fancy unto fancy, unto fancy, thinking what thy God hath lent thee by reply so plainly, Thouhg its ghost upon the floor. Shall clasp a feather then methought, the him streaming throws his shadow that is there stepped a flirt and this desert land enchanted On the pallid bust spoke only, That is I wheeled a midnight dreary, while I marvelled this and so faintly you came tapping, at the air grew stronger; hesitating then methought, the bust above my sad soul hath lent thee by angels he did outpour. I think, just maybe, there's really poetry in that. I'll have to look for it.