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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. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow, From my music surcease of sorrow, sorrow for my lost brother, whom was named Tom by my mother, And now my heart is sore and he is nameless here forevermore.
Paraphrase of Poe. It was the first thing I thought of when I saw it.
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow, From my music surcease of sorrow, sorrow for my lost brother, whom was named Tom by my mother, And now my heart is sore and he is nameless here forevermore.
Paraphrase of Poe. It was the first thing I thought of when I saw it.