The Raven Boy Poem

One night I lay in want of sleep, but fair Adventure, dark and deep, was resting, waiting, captivating every thought my mind could keep.

And so I stole across my room, drawn by the Fates’ incessant loom, for whispers, swift and promising, were luring me into the gloom.

I balanced on the windowsill, undaunted by the creeping chill of night, for brightly overhead the watchful Moon hung soft and still.

Then swiftly, as if by a prayer, a Nighthawk, slicing through the air, appeared to rest abreast my lonely figure, as I waited there.

She peered at me through ebon eyes that sung of shadows, old and wise, and as she loosed her beak to speak
I listened raptly, hypnotized.

“O Raven-girl, your time is near!
Why must you wither, crouched in dreary,