Alusión (weekly)

  • tags: screencasting screencapture screencast

  • tags: worldclock

  • tags: secondlife slsocial

  • tags: secondlife

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  • tags: QR codes generator QR codes

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  • tags: secondlifeplaces

    •     Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
       Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
       While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
       As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
       `’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door –
       Only this, and nothing more.’

        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 books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore –
       For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore –
       Nameless here for evermore.

        And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
       Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
       So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
       `’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door –
       Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; –
       This it is, and nothing more,’

        Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
       `Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
       But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
       And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
       That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; –
       Darkness there, and nothing more.

        Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
       Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
       But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
       And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
       This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
       Merely this and nothing more.

        Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
       Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
       `Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
       Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore –
       Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; –
       ‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

        Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
       In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
       Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
       But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door –
       Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door –
       Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

        Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
       By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
       `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
       Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore –
       Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
       Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

        Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
       Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
       For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
       Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door –
       Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
       With such name as `Nevermore.’

        But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
       That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
       Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered –
       Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before –
       On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’
       Then the bird said, `Neverm

    • Naomee Noel
    • Dario Darrow
  • tags: secondlife_information slphotography

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