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Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious case of forgotten gore--
While I nodded, not so nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As if someone gently rapping, rapping at the task force door.
"'Tis Watari with my cake," I muttered, "Tapping at the task force door--
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December--
And each eaten Oreo wrought it's crumbs upon the floor,
Eagerly I wished the morrow-- vainly I had sought to borrow,
From my snacks the surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Misora--
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the Death Gods name Misora--
Nameless here forevermore.

And the sleepy, sad uncertain static of each surveillance monitor
Thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis Watari entreating entrance at the task force door--
Some snacks with Watari entreating entrance at the task force door;--
This it is, and nothing more,"

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Light," said I, "or Misa, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I wasn't quite napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at the task force 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 detective ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Misora?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Misora!"
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 Mello at the secret entrance;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore--
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--
Tis Matsuda, and nothing more!"

Open here I pulled the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Death God of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with stealth of Aiber or Wedy, perched above the task force door--
Perched upon a bust of Wammy, just above the task force door--
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony God beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the scary grin it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient Death God wandering from the Yagami Home--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on Kira's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Death God, "Nevermore."

Much I marveled 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 Shinigami above a task force door -
God or beast above the sculptured bust above a task force door,
With such name as 'Nevermore.'

But the Death God, 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 an apple did he devour--
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 Ryuk said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy killer whom unmerciful massacre
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never-nevermore.'"

But the Death God still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of Ryuk and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Cases unto cases, thinking what this ominous God of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous God of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in calculating, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my deepest core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Kira whose foot-falls tinkled on the coldened floor.
"Wretch!" I cried, "Kira hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from my memories of Misora!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Misora!"
Quoth the Death God, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if God or devil!--
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all unsaddened, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore--
Is there--is there a balm in snacks?--tell me--tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Death God, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!' said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if God or devil!
By that Death God Realm that bends above us--by Kira's fiendish attempts to rule us--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the Death Gods named Misora--
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the Death Gods named Misora?"
Quoth the Death God, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, beast or fiend!" I shrieked up starting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and Kira's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!--quit the bust above the door!
Take thy teeth from out my heart, and take thy form from off the door!"
Quoth the Death God, "Nevermore."

And the Death God, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Wammy just above the task force door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!